


Traffic

by eyesocketsandsuits (writingandchocolatemilk)



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, I lied, Later Oneshots Have Spoilers, No Spoilers, They talk, Traffic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 54,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’ve saved the world.”</p><p>Skulduggery’s head moved a centimeter in her direction. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>Valkyrie continued to gaze out of the car window, watching the man in the next car over pick his nose. </p><p>“Well, it’s just that we’ve saved the world, Skulduggery. Everything.” </p><p>The car inched forward, engine purring with impatience. </p><p>“I... fail to see your point,” he admitted. </p><p>“We’re in traffic.” </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>[[Oneshots]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> **All chapter until stated take place in a universe before SpX.**

Valkyrie Cain had saved the world.

It wasn’t anything she liked to brag about. She didn’t get up in the morning with the express purpose to remind everyone nearby that she had saved the world— _numerous_ times. 

“We’ve saved the world.”

Skulduggery’s head moved a centimeter in her direction. “I’m sorry?”

Valkyrie continued to gaze out of the car window, watching the man in the next car over pick his nose. 

“Well, it’s just that we’ve saved the world, Skulduggery. Everything.” 

The car inched forward, engine purring with impatience. 

“I… fail to see your point,” he admitted. 

“We’re in traffic.” 

“Yes.”

A silence settled. The man next to them had struck gold, and Valkyrie turned away, shivering in disgust. She waited for Skulduggery to comment on the situation, watching his fingers tap against the steering wheel.

“Skulduggery?”

“Hm?”

“Traffic.”

“Yes, you said that.” His head inclined forward, like he was going to say something else, but he stopped himself.

“What?”

“What what?”

Someone honked, but the pure majesty of the Bentley dissuaded anyone from trying to merge. Valkyrie scowled as the man, knuckles deep in his nose, pulled back next to them.

“ _What_?” she asked, boredom finally creeping its way into her voice.

“Well, it’s just that those two statements have absolutely nothing to do with one another. And I’m unsure of what you’re getting at.” Another pause, but this time he continued. “I’m just not sure that the connection is going to make sense, and I don’t want to see you struggle.”

“Well, why are we sitting around in traffic?” Valkyrie looked back over the tops of the surrounding cars, the way they blended into one giant roof, continuing on into the distance. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know, have something cooler?”

“There’s nothing cooler than the Bentley,” Skulduggery responded, and she could tell by the way he sat a little straighter he was offended. 

“Yeah, but we’re sitting in traffic, and there’s nothing the Bentley can do about that. I should have brought my bike. My fast, speedy bike.” Her head hit the window. “I would have been there already.”

“You don’t like our bonding time?”

“Our… Skulduggery, our bonding time is when we’re punching bad guys in the face. It’s getting lost in dungeons. It’s not…” The man was staying even with them, and his face was eating his finger. “ _Traffic_.”

“It’s the boring times that bring people together.” 

“I sort of want to punch you, actually. Can’t you…” Valkyrie searched for something plausible. “Push cars out of the way? Or make a tunnel underground?” 

Skulduggery looked at her. “That man next to you is picking his nose.”

“ _I know_. I bet China would have a way around this.”

“She’s just as human as you and—she gets caught in traffic just like everyone else.”          “No,” Valkyrie grumbled, slumping down until her knees hit the dash. “She’s one of those people who’s there and looks at you and says, ‘oh, didn’t you hear about the traffic?’”

“You’re not very attractive when you’re whining,” Skulduggery mumbled.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Hm?”

“I’m not whining.” She grinned. “And I’m always attractive.” 

“You are whining. You’ve been whining for the past… Oh, five minutes. Mainly about the traffic, and then you started grumbling about China, it was all very incoherent. And I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You didn’t say I wasn’t attractive.”

“There you go again, grumbling. You should work on that.” 

Skulduggery straightened, and Valkyrie looked away and almost let out a shout of relief. The cars crawled forward at a slightly faster speed. 

Then they stopped.

“Saved the world _multiple times_ , Skulduggery!” 

“We’ve also nearly destroyed it.”

Ah, it made sense. “Do you think it’s karma?” 

“No.”

“It is.”

“Valkyrie, it’s traffic. Everyone runs into traffic. World leaders run into traffic. Hitler probably ran into traffic.”

“What is with you and Hitler comparisons?” 

“I have literally made a Hitler comparison one other time.”

“You can fly. How can you just sit here in traffic and—“

“I spy with my little eye: someone picking their nose.” 

Valkyrie looked over her shoulder—it was reflex—and made eye contact as the man removed his finger.

“Oh, my God.” 

He laughed.


	2. Sister

 

Alice hated her parents. She hated the way they tried to connect, how they would place curfews on her, how they had to meet every friend. They were like some sort of boa constrictor, tightening further and further until—

"Don't take that tone with me," Melissa said, standing in the doorway.

Alice whipped around, snarl on her lips. "Well, maybe if you would stop  _talking_ to me! Just leave me alone!"

She knocked over a jar of pencils, cursing as she scrambled for her headphones in the dark. Her mother continued to chatter from the doorway, but Alice managed to get her earphones in. Music—any music, loud music—flooded her ears and everything was a little better.

Melissa stalked toward her, but Alice retreated, and she said  _don't touch me_ , but she didn't hear a word of it.

It was all Alice could do to text Val.

Alice grabbed a change of clothes, hunching her shoulders as Melissa's volume increased. Into the bathroom, the toothbrush—

Melissa grabbed Alice and turned her around—

"Shut up! God, just leave me alone! Just leave me the  _fuck_ alone!"

Desmond withdrew like she had bit him. Alice looked at her father, at her mother, standing in the doorway, still.

"I'm going to Val's."

Melissa immediately opened her mouth, but Alice was already trudging down the stairs. Her father probably said goodbye, but Alice was too close to screaming to say anything. She slammed the door shut behind her, winced at the wind.

But then she took a deep breath, the cold filling her lungs, and she ran. She ran past the turn, past the pier, until her legs were aching and even then. Only when the headlights picked her out did she finally force herself to stop, muscles trembling.

Alice nearly ripped the door of its hinges, and she fell in, into the warmth and the soft leather.

"Please don't hurt my car."

Alice didn't have the patience to sit up.

Val turned around in her seat, frowning. Alice groaned before Val could even say anything.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Val nodded, turning back around. They drove in silence, the streetlights flashing through the windows, giving Alice a headache.

"So," Skulduggery began; Alice prepared herself. "We're not getting hot chocolate."

"What?" Alice glared at the back of Skulduggery's head.

"Come on, you really think I'm going to spill it?" Val cut in. "I love it, Skulduggery, you know I do, but I'm not going to spill has this car been through that a little stain remover can't fix, anyways?"

Skulduggery shook his head. "Do you know 'The Last Supper?'"

Val raised an eyebrow. "The Jesus painting?"

"Yes, the Jesus painting. One of the finest pieces of artwork or our time. One of the most recognizable, the most revered, the most symbolic. While da Vinci was painting it, he chose to paint on dry wall rather than the tradition wet plaster."

"That's… That's fascinating, Skulduggery."

"If you visit 'The Last Supper' today, you'll notice that the image is faded. Simply put, wet plaster holds paint better. Such a simple action, just a slight miscalculation, a deviation of the accepted norm, and now one of the most defining pieces of artwork in human history is fading."

Both Alice and Val stared.

Val's mouth twisted. "Did you just compare the Bentley to 'The Last Supper?'"

"Both amazing pieces of artisanship, Valkyrie."

"I just wanted to stop for a hot chocolate!"

"We don't eat or drink in the Bentley."

Alice sat up. "You know, you  _could_  ask me why I ran away from home."

Val turned around again, elbowing Skulduggery in the process. "You told us not to. We were just continuing our conversation."

Alice opened her mouth, then shut it. "I hate them."

Val didn't answer. It was just the sound of the engine, of tires on asphalt. Alice still had one of her headphones in, and the song switched over to something with a man screaming over guitar riffs.

"There's, like, no way they were like you with how they are with me. They're everywhere. They don't let me do  _anything_. And they're on me about grades, too. How did you live with them?" Alice buckled her seatbelt.

Val turned back around, and for whatever reason, Alice wished she had waited until Skulduggery wasn't in the car to bring this up.

Alice crossed her arms and slumped in the seat. "No wonder you ran away."

"Just… try and cut them a little slack," Val finally answered.

"Yeah, says you, you're living in a mansion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not continuing this.
> 
> But if I was, these shorts would all have vague continuity.


	3. Subways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fluff, woohoo.
> 
> I am going to be posting an actual, well-done multi-chap within the next week-ish. So, uh, keep your eyes out.

Valkyrie had been in a lot of crappy places. She had been jammed, smushed, jostled, and even carried through the worst environments. There was nothing Valkyrie hated more than to be in a cramped place.  


Skulduggery was looking at her. No, he was _grinning_ at her. 

There was nowhere worse than a New York subway, Valkyrie decided. 

“Wow, isn’t this just lovely?” Skulduggery asked. 

They were pressed up against one another, though Valkyrie was trying to lean away, slightly. Their legs were still together, and occasionally their knees would knock together. 

Valkyrie tightened her hold on the pole. She wasn’t sure why the pole was there. It just seemed to take up space. Plus, the tight mass of bodied would stop anyone from falling over. 

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound very excited. After all, how many times are we going to see an underground forest? You need to be a little more enthusiastic.” 

Valkyrie looked right up into Skulduggery’s face, into the façade, and scowled. “People are _touching_ me.” 

“Mainly me, so it can’t be all that bad.”

Someone coughed, and Valkyrie imagined she could _feel_ it.

“Why couldn’t we have waited until it was later?”

“This is New York—it probably would have just been more crowded.”

The train slowed for the next station, and Valkyrie’s head knocked against Skulduggery’s ribcage. She didn’t mind that, but she did mind the man’s briefcase that knocked against her legs as he walked off. It had a buckle; she felt it. 

“We didn’t even get to go shopping.”

“You wanted to shop?”

“I… Well, no. I just wanted to get something to eat. But I promised Tanith I’d pick something up for her. Something nice. She gave me money and everything.”

Skulduggery raised an eyebrow. “It is sort of—“ Someone elbowed him, and he leaned over Valkyrie until he regained his balance. “Your fault.”

Valkyrie’s head nearly knocked against Skulduggery’s chin. “ _My_ fault?”

“You fell asleep in the taxi. Had you been awake, we could have stopped and gone shopping.” Skulduggery paused. “Oh, dear.”

“What?”

“I think someone is attempting to pickpocket me.”

“Do you even carry money?”

“I wouldn’t get very far in life if I didn’t have a wallet on me.” Skulduggery wiggled his hand behind him, and there was a sharp yell in response. “My arm’s stuck.”

“How do underground forests even work?” Valkyrie muttered, not even attempting to put space between her and Skulduggery any more. 

"You don’t seem to care that my arm is stuck.”

“Skulduggery, what would you like me to do about it? I have a man poking me in the back.” 

The voice from the intercom said… something. Valkyrie wasn’t even sure if it was English. She looked at Skulduggery, and he gave a helpless little shrug. The train rattled to a stop, and Valkyrie’s head knocked against Skulduggery’s chest again.  

And then everyone was gone.

Valkyrie took a step back, watching as the people that had been here a second ago escape into the subway station. Skulduggery straightened and adjusted his tie, taking a quick and graceful seat. Valkyrie remained standing.

Nothing happened. 

“Uh.”

Skulduggery reached up, retracted his façade, and ignored her. 

The doors slid shut, and the voice from the intercom spoke again. 

And again.

“ _Names_?” it asked again, sounding frustrated.

Valkyrie stared. “Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant?” 

The intercom said something else, and then the train was moving again. Valkyrie waited for something else to happen, and when it didn’t she collapsed into the seat next to Skulduggery. She could feel the jetlag dragging at her eyelids. 

“Do you not know my name?”

Valkyrie looked over at Skulduggery. “What?”

“Just then, when the intercom asked for our names, you said ‘Skulduggery Pleasant?’”

“Yes, I, uh, did.” 

“No, you said it with a question mark. You raised your voice like this?” 

Valkyrie was very tired, and she just sort of blinked at Skulduggery. His head turned towards her a fraction, tilted slightly.

Despite herself, Valkyrie grinned and slapped at Skulduggery’s arm. “You’re such an ass.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Wake me up when we get there.”  


	4. Planes

Valkyrie looked at her ticket, then back up at the number above the seats. She was holding up the line—she could see it stretching out the plane door—but she couldn’t help it. She turned to glare at Skulduggery. 

“Did you not get us the same seats?”

Skulduggery leaned over her shoulder, looking at the ticket. “No.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get us the same seats?” she hissed, shooting a smile to the woman waiting behind them. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I guess I clicked on the wrong box. You know, on my phone. So it didn’t give us seats that were open next to one another.”

“You didn’t _see_ that when you looked at the tickets?”

Skulduggery, who was waiting to use his façade, looked at her. His sunglasses hit her forehead. “Valkyrie, when was the last time you checked the seating arrangements on your airplane tickets?”

“It doesn’t matter if _I_ do. You’re you.”

The woman let out an irritated sigh, and Valkyrie could see the stewardess stand on the tips of her toes, seeing what the commotion was. Valkyrie waved her hand in a vague apology, shoving her suitcase into the compartment ahead and squishing her way into the window seat. 

Skulduggery hesitated, then sat down next to her. She stared.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting down.”

The line continued to move, and Valkyrie peaked over the seats. “You can’t just _sit down_. You can’t just steal someone’s seat.”

Skulduggery looked down at his lap, and then back at Valkyrie. “I can do just about anything, Valkyrie. That’s what makes me—“

“Excuse me.”

They both looked up to a very angry, very sweaty man. 

“That’s my seat. You’re sitting in it.”

Skulduggery nodded. “I am.”

“I… That’s my seat,” the man said, and a bead of sweat fell from his mustache onto Skulduggery’s sleeve. 

Valkyrie recoiled. 

“It is, and I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I need to sit here.” 

The man looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Why?” He stretched the word out, squinting. 

Valkyrie leaned over Skulduggery. “He’s contagious.”

“What?” the man asked, taking a step back and onto someone’s toes. 

“Flesh eating disease,” Valkyrie explained, shaking her head sadly. 

Skulduggery looked at her, looked at the man, then stared straight ahead.

“What is he doing on a _plane_?! Good God, he’s gonna’ make everyone sick. How contagious is he?” They were getting nervous looks now from the surrounding people. “What type of flesh eating disease? Does he have a face?”

Valkyrie looked around, biding her time. “It’s—it’s leprosy.” Skulduggery’s head sank down. “Nothing serious, but I’m his nurse. We would just appreciate—“

“How is leprosy _not_ serious?!” 

“Well, he’s taken anti-biotics, so he’s not contagious per se, but it probably isn’t the best idea to sit next to him. He was sitting in, uh, B23, so you can just… move there…”

The man looked ready to explode. “I can’t _believe_ —“

Skulduggery gave a cough, and the man nearly fell over himself in an attempt to get away. Other people hurried by, giving the two of them dirty looks as they covered their mouths. Valkyrie grinned and looked at Skulduggery.

“Are you laughing?”

Skulduggery’s shoulders shook, and his head was still down.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Valkyrie tried, but she could feel the beginnings of a laugh build in her chest. “Quit it,” she whispered.

“Leprosy.” And Skulduggery barked a laugh, but quickly turned it into a coughing fit. 

A woman nearly fell into the people sitting down, letting out a shriek of panic. Valkyrie had to look out the window, hand covering her mouth as she fought back the giggles. It hadn’t even been that funny. 

As more people crowded onto the plane, Valkyrie could feel her happiness start to fade. The air in the plane felt filtered and fake, like she was breathing a thousand other people’s breaths. Someone was kicking her seat. She closed her eyes.

“Do you have the mushroom bomb?” she asked softly.

“It’s not a mushroom bomb.”

“That’s what you called it.”

“No, that’s what _you_ called it.”

Valkyrie peaked at him. “You said it would explode if we even teleported. And you said it would spew seeds that would infect everyone in the vicinity. Seeds that grow mushrooms in your stomach. Sounds like a bomb.”

“I don’t think we should call it a bomb on an airplane,” Skulduggery muttered.

“Where did you put it, anyways? I haven’t seen it since this morning.”

Skulduggery placed a box on the armrest in between them.

Valkyrie stared. “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s perfectly safe.” 

“ _If we teleported_ , you said!”

“Valkyrie, we’re on a plane,” Skulduggery explained, like that would solve the whole issue of the mushroom bomb. 

The plane started its lumbering journey onto the runway. They didn’t speak until they were safely in the air. This had to do more with the fact that Valkyrie was petrified every jostle of the box would cause spores to leak into the air and into her stomach.

When they were in the air for fifteen minutes, Valkyrie relaxed. 

“I’m bored.”

Skulduggery looked at her. “Please don’t start.”

“Start what?” 

“This.”

“Oh, wait,” Valkyrie said. She dug around in her pockets until she pulled out her notepad and pen. She drew five horizontal lines in a row and then looked at Skulduggery, grinning. 

“No.”

“Oh, come on, what else are you going to be doing?”

He sighed. “A.”

It was a mistake. Valkyrie was losing at Hang Man. She was losing hard. 

“Um…” She only had one leg left. Skulduggery wiggled the pen, tapping it against the pull-out tray. “Uh…” She had guessed all of the vowels. Skulduggery had picked a word with no vowels. “C?”

“No. The word was: syzygy.”

Valkyrie glared. “Of course it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I am working on a multi-chapter with plot.
> 
> Until then, enjoy this.


	5. Shelves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend was like: “Does Valkyrie ever learn to hang a shelf?”
> 
> And I was like:

The day had come. 

It had happened one morning, and Valkyrie hadn’t even been expecting it. She had been taking a shower, and reached over to place the shampoo on the shelf. 

It was a nice shelf. It was Skulduggery’s shelf. She had been showering at his house, after a case. He had called up the stairs that he was going out, and she had yelled back that she had heard. The shelf was made of glass.

Valkyrie had placed the shampoo on the glass shelf, and it had promptly shattered. 

She yelped, trying to dodge the falling bottles, and stepped on a piece of glass. She cursed this time and nearly fell, catching hold of the shower curtain rod. 

_That_ had promptly detached from the wall, and Valkyrie was left with a piece of glass in her foot and holding the rod, water splashing absolutely everywhere. 

For a moment, Valkyrie fumed, shutting the water off with a vengeance. 

Valkyrie had then panicked. How was she even going to explain this? Oh, God, Skulduggery would never let her live it down. Every time it made sense—hell, even when it didn’t, she could _see_ him, what’d he say.

“Oh, like the shelf?” And then a smug tilting of the head, in the sort of—

No. Today was the day Valkyrie was going to hang a shelf. 

She got dressed, pulling her soapy hair into a bun and praying she wouldn’t happen to see China on this visit. She got on her bike and _sped_. 

She had no idea where she would buy a glass shelf. She pulled into a department store and marched in, employees scattering. She wandered around a bit, admiring the massive amounts of lights and fans hanging from the ceiling. 

A short girl approached, smiling hesitantly. “Can I help you?”

Valkyrie debated. “Uh, I’m looking for a glass shelf. Like,” she held her hands apart. “This big? I broke mine. I broke my friend’s, actually.”

The girl nodded, moving through the aisles. They stopped, standing in front of a wonderful collection of electrical sockets. 

“These aren’t shelves.”

The girl whirled, panicking. “I, um, I, um, I’m new.” 

“It’s fine!” Valkyrie said, checking the time on her phone. “It’s fine, really. Do you have any idea where the shelves might be?”

The girl looked half ready to start crying. “I, um…”

“It’s not that I’m in a rush, but my friend doesn’t know I broke his shelf. And he’s going to be very smug about it.”

“Smug?”

“He’s just going to be an ass about the whole thing.” 

The girl looked terrified, then moved off once again. Valkyrie followed, praying this time the girl would find something. Lo and behold, they stopped in front of shelves.

“These all are wooden.”

The girl looked pained, eyes flicking from the shelves to Valkyrie. “Um.” 

“You know, it’s fine. Just…” Valkyrie grabbed a shelf, and some of the little pegs. “He probably won’t notice.”

They spent another ten minutes at the cash register, the girl panicking when the items wouldn’t ring through. The manager appeared out of the back, looking a little stoned, and explained the processes slowly. Valkyrie was half ready to scream, but she kept the smile on her face. 

“I’m really sorry…” The girl muttered as Valkyrie hurried back into the parking lot.

And Valkyrie sped home. She sped to Skulduggery’s house, that is. It was a very uncomfortable ride—the shelf hadn’t fit quite right in the compartment under her seat.

She arrived back at Skulduggery’s house, no sign of the Bentley. 

Alright. That had gone better than expected. 

Valkyrie was then faced with the shower again. There was glass. There was water. She still had soap in her hair, and she could feel it drip down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. She placed the shelf on the toilet and went searching for a dustpan. 

Skulduggery had always said he had unerring grace. Valkyrie had thought this meant that he didn’t drop things very often. It apparently meant that the living skeleton didn’t own a dustpan. 

However, Skulduggery did own manila folders. He owned a lot, so Valkyrie borrowed two and swept up the glass.

Valkyrie fixed her attention to the curtain rod. That was simple enough to maneuver back into place. And then all that was left was the shelf. She hesitated, then placed the piece of wood back onto the little pegs that had held the glass shelf.

She removed her hands, and the shelf wobbled there for a few seconds, then fell into Valkyrie’s waiting hands. 

“Didn’t think so,” she mumbled, putting the shelf back onto the toilet. 

When Skulduggery returned home, he found Valkyrie laying in an armchair, sprawled in an armchair, more like. He looked at her.

“What did you do?”

Valkyrie’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

“You did something.”

“Wow, nice to see you, too.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked around. 

Valkyrie watched him. “Do you ever think that maybe you’re a little too paranoid? Like, maybe all those years of being a detective has sent you looking for clues that aren’t there? I think that’s what’s happening right now.”

He looked at her, slowly. “What did you do?”

“What did _you_ do?”

Skulduggery moved off into the house. Valkyrie stayed in the chair, eyes gazing at nothing. He had known. Of course he had known. There was never a chance he _wouldn’t_ know. It was only a matter of _when_.

“Valkyrie?” he called from down the hall. 

“Skulduggery?”

“Why is my shelf crooked?”

“It was always crooked.”

“Why is it _wooden_?”

“It was always wooden.” 

Skulduggery wandered back. “I’m almost positive I would remember if my shelf was wooden.”

Valkyrie craned her neck. “You don’t even _use_ the bathroom. How would you know?”

“Did…Did you break my shelf?”

“No.”

“Did you break my shelf and then replace it with a wooden one?”

“Nope.”

“That would all be forgivable, of course, had you not hung it crooked.”

Valkyrie sighed. “I hate you.”


	6. Motorcycles

Once, Valkyrie had been afraid of motorcycles. She was afraid of the way they bit into the road with two wheels, bent at impossible angles, weaved like they were alive through traffic. Once, Valkyrie had been afraid of a lot of things.  


Now, Valkyrie loved to ride. It thrilled her to kiss the ground, soar over the pavement. It was a lot like horseback riding; she and the machine became one. It was a lot like flying—what she remembered it to be. Freedom. 

Of course, not quite to the extent that flying had been like. Never like that.

Flying had been something else. She had danced like a god above the heads of everyone, suspended by nothing. She could remember, vaguely, the feeling of swooping and diving and ducking. Usually she had been trying to kill someone.

Now she was bound by more earthly powers. Gravity kept her there, and she didn’t even have her elemental magic to bolster her anymore. She wondered if this was how adepts felt all the time. A fence needed climbing, a ditch a running start.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Valkyrie nearly steered off the road.

She looked over and Skulduggery was flying next to her, and she laughed, revving her engine. He tilted his head and kept pace with her, until she veered off the road. She let out another shriek of laugher as she kicked up dirt, leaving Skulduggery behind.

But then he was there again, dodging trees and staying even with her. And it was like old times again. 

River.

She braked hard, letting out a yelp as she came to a stop. Her bike nearly fell, but she braced her leg and gritted her teeth, keeping it upright through sheer leg strength alone. She panted, watching the water swirl, and then watched Skulduggery touch down next to her. 

“Are you getting slower?” she asked, dismounting the bike and throwing down the kickstand. 

“Maybe you just like to speed. That’s illegal, you know. I could arrest you.”

“Arrest _me_?”

Skulduggery adjusted his hat. “Yes.”

“You have literally driven on the wrong side of the road.” 

“But I didn’t speed.”

Valkyrie just sort of stared at him. Skulduggery, for his part, managed to distract himself by adjusting every damned button on his suit until he had nothing else to do but meet Valkyrie’s eyes. 

“Well, I only sped a little.” 

Valkyrie laughed, then sat down on a rock. Skulduggery stood nearby, and they stayed that way in silence. 

Valkyrie looked up at him. 

“Take me flying.”  

He hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” 

“Well, for one thing, you will be leaving your very expensive, very nice motorcycle in the middle of the woods. Now, I don’t think there are many motorcycle-thieves in these parts of the woods, but there might be bears.”

“Bears?” 

“Or sharks. We’re right by the water; they might be attracted to your shiny motorcycle.” 

Valkyrie stood and stepped over to him. “You’re stalling.”

“Am I?”

And he wrapped his arms around her and then the Earth drifted away from them. Valkyrie grinned, feet kicking off into nothingness. She whooped as they swung through the air, as he almost dropped her because she wanted so badly to just let go and float along with him.

The world was a quilt. Little squares of farms or houses. The roads that could be rivers that could be streets that cut across the green in winding paths. The sky that couldn’t seem to decide if it was the ground as they twirled. The air, so sharp and cold and clear it hurt her lungs and stung her eyes. 

Eventually, Skulduggery slowed, and Valkyrie looked at him. His arm tightened around her and he tilted his head. Valkyrie smiled, a little unsure. 

“I love you.”

And then he dropped her. 

Valkyrie screamed, twisting in the air to find Skulduggery falling with her, by her side. Valkyrie kicked her feet, managing to get close enough to him so she could grab onto him…

Valkyrie reached out and knocked off Skulduggery’s hat. 

Immediately, the wind snatched it away.

She laughed in triumph as Skulduggery’s whole body jerked, trying in vain to grab the hat before it flew too far. 

Skulduggery looked at her, and once again his arms encircled her. Their decent slowed until the wind no longer snatched away Valkyrie’s laugher. She held onto him, face buried in his suit as giggles racked her body. 

“My hat.”

Valkyrie’s laugher renewed itself, and her body wanted to curl up. 

Skulduggery spun with her in his arms. They danced in the air until Valkyrie couldn’t feel her fingertips and they talked about everything and nothing, and Skulduggery teased her motorcycle was probably gone and she asked him where his hat was.

She craned her head back and she closed her eyes and his hold on her almost loosened. 

Almost. 

No, Valkyrie had lost her wings. But she could almost—


	7. Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are fooling yourselves if you think the Skulman can cook.

Skulduggery said it was toast. Maybe, Valkyrie reflected, it _had_ been bread once. But as she flipped over the charred lump, she highly doubted it.  


He was hovering by the door. Valkyrie shot him a hesitant smile and looked back at the food. 

Last night, they had broken into someone’s house. The who wasn’t important, but the when was. Valkyrie hadn’t eaten all day by the time Skulduggery was easing open one of the windows. Her rumbling stomach had alerted the homeowner, who had proceeded to knee her in the face.

He had assured her he would make her breakfast to make up for the fact. 

“You’re not eating.”

Valkyrie nodded. “Truly, the greatest, most observant detective in the world.” 

“Do you not like my cooking?”

Valkyrie looked back. He had managed to burn eggs. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but there they were, blackened and charred around the edges. At least the orange juice was all right. She took a sip.

“You’re hesitating. No, you’re stalling.”

“Well, it’s just that a lot of it’s… black.” 

“Black?”

“Well, burned.” Valkyrie held up the ‘toast.’ “Really burned. You burned the eggs, even.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “You like things well-done.”

“Yes, I like steak well-done. My eggs, on the other hand…” 

Skulduggery crossed his arms. “Valkyrie, I feel as though you’re being a little unappreciative. You kept reminding me that you were hungry, and I told you I would make breakfast.”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yeah, but I thought you were joking. You can’t cook.”

There was a silence.

“I can cook.”

“No, you can’t. Remember the birthday cake?” 

Skulduggery straightened. “You liked the birthday cake.”

“It’s not like I blame you or anything.” Valkyrie sunk down into the covers, placing the plate on the side table. “You have been a skeleton for most of your life. I don’t, like, _expect_ you to know how to cook.” 

“I _can_ cook,” he insisted. 

She pulled a face and nodded. “Okay.”

“I can!”

“I’m not disagreeing.” 

“Stop smiling.” 

Valkyrie tried, she really did, but Skulduggery ended up storming out of the room, her laugher trailing him down the hallway.


	8. Cows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [skuldxggxry ](http://skuldxggxry.tumblr.com/) was saying how Skulduggery named his guns, and I wrote a thing.
> 
> Also, cows.

Valkyrie looked at him. “What?”

Skulduggery looked out from underneath the monster that was bleeding on him. “Sorry?”

“You just muttered something. I heard you.” 

Skulduggery pushed the monster away from him. It rolled, the moonlight catching the ridges and curves of its head in a particularly nasty way. It was a shame, too. It was beautiful out. The air wasn’t too chilly, and the field behind them rustled in the breeze.

“I didn’t,” he said, standing and brushing off as much of the blood off as he could. “I feel as though you were just dazzled by that amazing feat of marksmanship, and maybe you mumbled something under your breath.”

“What would I mumble?” she asked, nudging the monster with her foot.

“I assume it would be full of praise. Awe.” 

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at him. The monster moved, and she leapt away, magic crackling on the tips of her fingers. When the monster didn’t get up, she glared at Skulduggery, who tilted his head. 

“Careful, it might bleed on you.”

“Oh, like you?” 

Skulduggery looked down at his suit, and his shoulders slumped. “Don’t ever mock the loss of a fine suit, Valkyrie.”

Valkyrie shrugged, prodding the monster again with her toe. It really was ugly. It had a huge head, eyes that bugged over a tiny chin. Its thin neck didn’t look able to support the head. The body was small, but the arms and legs were long and gangly. 

“So, this is our alien?” Valkyrie asked, poking the monster’s forehead. It split down the middle, revealing a set of jaws where a brain should have been. “Well, that explains why the cows had holes in them.”

“It would indeed,” Skulduggery agreed, still sounding a little upset. “Arms or legs?”

“Ugh, legs.”

Skulduggery grabbed the monster under its arms, and Valkyrie grabbed the legs. A tongue poked out from the creature’s mouth, licking at Skulduggery’s tie. He grunted unhappily.

“What did you mutter, though?” 

Skulduggery sighed. “As I said, it must have been your awe.”

Valkyrie would have wagged a finger at him. “No, no, you definitely said something. It… It almost sounded like you were _talking_ to something. Under your breath.”

“I was apologizing to the alien for shooting it horribly in the chest.” 

“No, it wouldn’t have understood you. You wouldn’t apologize unless someone could appreciate how witty you were being _with_ your apology. Were you talking to yourself?”

Skulduggery didn’t answer for a moment. They passed the pasture of cows. Valkyrie looked over at them, and she grinned as a young one wandered closer. It blinked its big brown eyes at her.

And then its head split down the middle. 

Valkyrie let out a slight shriek, dropping the alien. 

“Skulduggery!” she yelled in alarm. 

“Valkyrie?” 

“The cow!”

Skulduggery looked over, and then gently placed the monster back on the ground. The split in the cow’s head continued to grow larger, and Valkyrie watched in a horrified kind of stupor as a tongue poked its way out of the bloody hole. 

“That’s creepy,” Valkyrie muttered, feeling stupid for yelling. 

“Apparently, our alien-monster didn’t just eat cows. It made a friend.” Skulduggery walked closer to the fence, whistling to the cow. He pulled out his gun.

“Skulduggery, you can’t just _shoot_ it.”

“It’s a monster, not unlike that one there, which tried to kill me. Oh, and you. It also tried to kill you, but mainly me.” He crouched in front of the cow, head tilted as he observed it.

Valkyrie stood behind him, watching the pink tongue flail in the mouth. “But it’s a baby.”

“Babies kill, Valkyrie.” 

“Maybe it’s like a normal cow. Pet it.”

Skulduggery craned his neck to look at her. “You pet it. I want to shoot the damn thing.”

Valkyrie frowned at him. “Do you think the other cows—“ 

It mooed, poking its head through the fence. 

Valkyrie reached out to pet it—just on the neck or ear or something—and the tongue wrapped around her wrist and yanked her forward. 

Skulduggery’s gun went off, and the tongue loosened as the cow fell to the ground. Valkyrie rubbed her wrist, scowling at the dead, baby cow. Thing had tried to _eat_ her, the bloody thing. Deserved to get shot, if you asked her.

“Killer babies,” Skulduggery repeated, standing. “We’ll get the other one to the road, then come back for this one.”

They resumed the dragging of the other monster, Valkyrie feeling a little guilty about the whole dead-baby-cow thing.  

“So, if you _weren’t_ talking to yourself…”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Are we still on about this?” 

Valkyrie shrugged, smiling. 

Skulduggery hesitated. “I was talking to my gun.”

“Your… gun?”

“It was a good shot.”

“Yes, but your gun had nothing to do with that. That was all you. _You_ shot the monster.”

“Well, yes,” Skulduggery mumbled, “but she did a good job.”

“ _She_?” Valkyrie felt her grin growing. “Oh, Skulduggery, did you name your guns? Who did you name them after? Me?”

He laughed. “Why would I name my guns after you?”

“Because I’m cool. Stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still hung up on the fact that you thought my girls would be named after you.” 

Valkyrie allowed herself a good pout for a minute. “Did you name the Bentley?”

“No.”

“You did, didn’t you?” 

“There’s a cow stalking us.”

“You did.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, pulling out his gun and aiming at something behind her.


	9. Longing

Darquesse missed Lord Vile.

She hated that she missed him. She thought about this as she looked through a hole in the rock. She hated a lot of things. A bad mood, that’s what Valkyrie had called her. Now Darquesse was all bad mood.

She hated this place, for one. When the Faceless Ones weren’t tearing her ligament from ligament, she was stuck with nothing to do but heal herself and gaze upwards at the sky.

When she had been back on Earth, she had thought blood was so pretty. Sometimes, the way it caught the light reminded her of a sunset, or one of those abstract paintings, and sometimes it was just pretty.

The sky here was always red. Even at night, when the sun sank, the sky was still a sticky red, like a giant beast’s blood was cooling and congealing in the sky. There weren’t even any stars. 

She had tried to make it rain once. Covered in dust, with a Faceless One trailing after her like a shadow, Darquesse had held up her hand and tried to drag the clouds together to get something, anything.

The Faceless One had snapped her spine vertebrae by vertebrae, but still she had stood there, trying before the pain burst through.

And Vile. Or Skulduggery. She missed them both.

She pushed them from her mind.

Darquesse was broken. She almost didn’t want to repair herself. It was so, so nice to just lay here and let her blood drain away. The pain tingled away into a comforting kind of cold. If she died, well, then she’d be dead, but as soon as she repaired herself, the Faceless Ones would be back.

One time, they had been too late, and Darquesse had tried to escape into the sky, away, away, but they had dragged her back and she had  _screamed_.

Now, as soon as she was in one piece, they would be back.

Lord Vile had popped her eyeball once. She had relished the experience. Maybe if he had been here, laying in pieces next to her, she might have repaired herself a little quicker.

_Let’s see who can outlast the Faceless Ones_ , she’d whisper.

And Vile would just look back and drag himself together bone and armor.

Or if it was Skulduggery, he would say something witty. Maybe he’d sing to her. She remembered his singing voice. Darquesse opened her mouth but her vocal cords had been frayed. She would have liked a song.

Darquesse hoped Vile missed her. In some other world or dimension, she hoped a little bit of Skulduggery missed her. Missed the fights they used to get into. Missed the little bit of Valkyrie that could fight the little bit of him.

Her mind stitched her throat together.

Darquesse’s ears popped, and she groaned, repairing her lungs to do so.

She wondered if Skulduggery ever had dreams about her. Or maybe it would be Vile dreaming about her, the girl cloaked in shadows who could fly and crash with him. Who could bring the universe to its knees with him.

Darquesse missed the sound wood made when it broke. She missed the sounds of seas boiling and of atmospheres crashing down. She missed the sounds of suns imploding and she missed dancing around black holes.

She missed blue skies and rain and Valkyrie’s annoying voice at the back of her mind. She missed bombs and explosions. God, Darquesse missed the sea. Any sea, all the seas she had drank in.

She missed skeletons in armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jees, Darquesse, maybe you shouldn’t try to kill everything.


	10. Gifts

Valkyrie nearly freaked out. She was trying very, very hard not to freak out, but she was grinning. She could feel it on her face, and she looked at Skulduggery.

“You got me a bike?”

Skulduggery was busy adjusting his tie. “I thought I told you not to make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, his tie giving him a very tough time of it. “It’s a welcoming home gift.”

Valkyrie moved toward the motorcycle, hands outstretched, but she didn’t dare touch it. “God,” she breathed, “it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” Skulduggery said, standing straighter and cocking his head. “A Ducati Monster 1200 S, six speed; a beast if there ever was one. Leather seats. Enchanted by the same sorcerers who work the Bentley.”

Valkyrie finally brought herself to touch the handles. “I can’t ride a motorcycle.”

“I know.”

“I crashed Tanith’s bike once. She never told you that because she knew you’d kill her. I’m really bad at riding them, actually.” Valkyrie let out a little laugh.

“I know  _that_ , too. And don’t fret—I told the man to get an easy bike.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t tear her eyes away. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know you’re a little slow…”

She looked up sharply. “Slow?”

“And sometimes, you’re a little dim-witted. You have a shocking lack of commonsense, as well.” Skulduggery gave a helpless little shrug. “I took that into account.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Skulduggery held up his hands. “All I’m saying is that I asked the man for a motorcycle that would be easy for someone with your… special condition to handle.”

Valkyrie squinted at him. “Did you tell them that I was stupid?”

“Not in so many words—“

“You told the people at the motorbike place I was  _stupid_?”

“No.”

“You did!” Valkyrie looked at her bike like it had run over her dog. “I can’t believe it.”

Skulduggery stood next to her. “Now, Valkyrie, I’m sure you’ll be able to ride the bike just fine.”

“Did you think I  _wouldn’t_ when you got me the damn thing?”

He hesitated.

“Oh my God,” Valkyrie breathed, “I hate you.”

Skulduggery laughed and patted her back. “I can teach you.”

“No, I want Tanith to.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “Last time she taught you, you crashed.”

Valkyrie shrugged, hands coming up with the gesture. “Well, jees, sorry Skulduggery, you’d probably go too fast for me. You know, on the account of me being stupid and all.”

“It was a joke, dear.”

“Now the whole building thinks I’m stupid.” And Valkyrie’s façade cracked and she grinned.

Skulduggery looked at her. “Wonderful to have you back.” He laughed again.

“You  _did_  miss me.”

“Of course. I got you a bike that matched your IQ level. If that doesn’t show I missed you and how considerate I am of you, I’m not sure what would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Valkyrie would get this bike](http://www.ducati.com/bikes/monster/1200_s/index.do)


	11. Potholes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make [this my official Valduggery song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nky4me4NP70).

Vyerix Polaris was currently cuffed and sitting in the back of Skulduggery Pleasant’s car. Well, sitting is such a general term, because she was more bent over, taking quick, short breaths and trying not to move. Her ribs were broken.

Pleasant and Cain were sitting there, fighting over the radio.

“You broke my ribs,” Vyerix rasped.

Cain didn’t even look back. “Yes, well, you did punch that nice mortal’s face in.”

Vyerix’s face twisted, but she kept her mouth shut. She was probably going to pass out. Another shuddering breath, one that made her insides feel like they were on fire. Maybe if her hands weren’t shackled behind her back…

Vyerix’s eyes fell on the back of Cain’s head. Oh, if her hands weren’t shackled…

Cain made a noise of disgust. “Oh, God, what is with you and these slow songs?” 

Pleasant looked at her. “You like slow songs.”

“No, I only like them sometimes. When I’m trying to go to sleep. Not when we’ve saved the day. I need something, like, triumphant. Powerful.” Cain was scrolling through her phone, hair obscuring Vyerix’s view of her face.

“We didn’t save the day, we just beat up someone.”

“Yeah, but a scumbag-someone.”

Vyerix let out a snarl—a feeble, weak snarl, but one nonetheless. “You’re one to talk about scumbags. Finally back—“

They hit a pothole. 

Vyerix nearly started crying. She tried sitting up, but that hurt, too. Cain and Pleasant seemed to be blissfully unaware that they were causing a prisoner pain. Maybe they enjoyed it. They hit another pothole and Vyerix let out a slight moan. 

“No, we need something happy.” Cain fiddled with her phone. 

Something really, really awful started blaring out of the speakers. Vyerix started crying. 

Pleasant reached over, tried to wrestled the phone out of Cain’s hands. She slapped the hand away, laughing and turning the sound up louder. The man was singing something about blow-up dolls and they hit another pothole.

“Valkyrie, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’ve literally heard you humming this song.” Cain twisted in the seat, legs coming up, and she curled into a protective ball. The song changed to something slightly less awful.

“Sing this,” Cain prompted.

“We have a murderer in the back seat, and you want me to sing The Beatles?” 

“What does the scumbag have anything to do with your voice? Sing it and I’ll let you chose a song. Come on. I know you love singing.”

“This is highly unprofessional.”

Vyerix growled. “I would have thought you two would have preferred flaying me to arresting me. I ran, just like everyone else when they heard about you. You should—“

Cain turned. In the receding light, Vyerix saw the black eye spreading across Cain’s pretty features. Vyerix grinned at that.

“How can he look at you?” 

Another pothole and Vyerix didn’t stop the sob. 

“Well, she _is_ very pretty,” Pleasant muttered. 

“Can I punch her?”

“My hands are on the wheel and my eyes on the road, Valkyrie. How can I both stop you and drive safely?”

“You don’t have eyes,” Valkyrie corrected.

Vyerix’s world was suddenly filled with a fist and a lot of stars. 

When she woke, it was dark. Vyerix was curled on the seat, arms numb. They were in a city now, the orange streetlamps illuminating the interior of the car. Cain’s seat was reclined, and Vyerix realized she was sleeping.

And Pleasant was singing. Low, under his breath. 

The car swerved, smooth and purposeful. They weren’t hitting any more potholes.


	12. Cliff

Valkyrie took a breath and steped up, toes right against the edge. The rock was porous and it dug into her feet, the grass far behind her. She could have slipped, bashed against the cliff face before she was ready, but her footing was sure.

From up here, Valkyrie imagined that this was it. The entire rest of the world spread before her, jumping, rolling, calm waves. Blue as the sky it met somewhere far in the distance. White sand and coral reefs as far as the eyes could see.

The sun glared down at her, seared her bare shoulders. She took another deep breath. The air here was so clear, crystal. Nothing but the wind in her ears, the waves far below.

She jumped, pushing off, and then she’s whooping. The air caught her, pushed her close to the cliff face but not close enough, and then she’s laughing, the giggles burning away the fear.

Valkyrie tried to twist herself into a dive, but all those years of relying on air to move  _for_  her showed. She ended up tumbling end over end, renewed laugher snatched away from her lips. Free, free as a bird as the waves rushed up to meet her.

And then she was slowing down, so minutely she would have thought it was her imagination if it hadn’t been for Skulduggery. He slowed her decent, stopped her spinning, and then she hit the water. The waves bent under her, slowing her decent but not allowing her through until she was safe.

She was under the water. Even without Elemental magic, she could feel the currents. They were less harsh here, different than Haggard. Currents here were gentle, more like a suggestion to where she should float.

For a moment, she just stayed there. Watched the black, volcanic rock disappear into the white, white sand.

Then, Valkyrie kicked out, again, and her head was out of the water.

“Any sirens?” Skulduggery asked, standing above her, rocking on the waves.

Valkyrie grinned, floated on her back. “Nope. Not yet. I looked really hard up there, too. All around, not a single mermaid in sight.”

“They’re not mermaids, they’re sirens. I’d like to meet a mermaid—sirens are a different matter altogether. Mermaids don’t drag fishermen to their deaths. Sirens, on the other hand…”

“Don’t they only come when it’s misty?” Valkyrie floated closer to Skulduggery and bumped against his shoes. “They sing sailors to their death on the rocks, but only if they can’t  _see_  the rocks.”

“You’re sunburned.”

  “Am I?” Valkyrie examined her arms. “Huh. I was hoping maybe it’d turn into a tan. You should grab a bathing suit. It’s gorgeous.”

“Don’t you think a swimming skeleton would be a little suspicious?”

“There’s no one around, and I’m pretty sure your little Jesus act is suspicious enough.”

Skulduggery laughed. “Want to go again?”

“God, yes.”

  Valkyrie raised her arms, and Skulduggery leaned down and scooped her up. They floated through the air, the wind whistling through Skulduggery’s eye sockets. Valkyrie grinned at him.

“You should put on sunscreen. You’re going to bleach.”

He grunted and placed her at the top of the cliff. “One more time, then we’re going to actually look for them.”

“Two more times.”

Skulduggery hesitated. “Two more times.”

“Three.”

“You can certainly jump a third time, but your landing is going to be a lot less fun.”  

Valkyrie laughed and gave him a shove, and he dropped back towards the water.

She was alone, and she gazed back out at the endless, endless sky and jumped.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one can convince me Valkyrie doesn’t like jumping off of high places.


	13. Stakeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 666. Accurate. 
> 
> Sick and tired of reincarnatedrainbow of asking, “But how do they kiss?”

Each stakeout proved to be the most boring stakeout in existence. They always superseded the previous stakeout in terms of pure drudgery. Each stakeout make Valkyrie want to cry more tears of boredom than the last.

At least it was pretty.

Valkyrie lay on her back, watching the clouds roll by. If they weren’t waiting for the cult to appear, it would have almost been peaceful. Boring, so, so boring, but peaceful. But they were waiting for a cult to try and sacrifice their husbands.

Skulduggery, for his part, was having a marvelous time with the binoculars. They rested on the grassy hill, breeze playing with their clothes. The day had slipped by and now the sky was descending into pink.

“I’m bored.”

Skulduggery’s head dipped slightly. He was resting on his stomach. He put the binoculars down and looked at her.

“Please stop saying that.”

“I’m literally dying of boredom.”

“Please stop abusing the word ‘literally.’ It makes me sad.”  

Valkyrie turned her head to look at him. “We should do something.”

“We’re already doing something.” Skulduggery pointed at the binoculars. “Look, we’re on stakeout.”

“Oh, come on! You know the cult people aren’t even going to be out until, like, dusk at the  _earliest_. We still have like an hour to spare and I’m going to eat my tongue or something if we don’t find something to talk about or do.”

Skulduggery shook his head, picking back up the binoculars. “ _I’ll_  eat your tongue if you don’t shut up,” he muttered.

Valkyrie looked at him. “What?”

“What?”

“You said you’d eat my tongue.”

Skulduggery was very still, and Valkyrie had the feeling he wasn’t looking through his binoculars anymore.

“I did.” Skulduggery placed down the binoculars. “Of course, I meant it in the figurative way. I don’t actually plan on cutting out your tongue and eating it. First off, I  _can’t_. Secondly, while you’re very annoying, I actually—“

“Oh my God, why are you backpedaling?”

“That is the wrong use of that word.”

“Why are you trying to coffeehouse me?”

Skulduggery looked at her, slowly. There was nothing but the sound of the distant highway and the chanting of the cult, still cooped up within their compound. Valkyrie licked her lips, and Skulduggery tilted his head.

Embarrassment threatened to color Valkyrie’s cheeks, so she said, “What did you mean by that? Almost sounds a little dirty.” She grinned at him.

Skulduggery hesitated. “It does.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re imagining things. We’re supposed to be on stakeout. You’re just trying to distract me. And yourself.”

Valkyrie edged closer. “Maybe I am.” She shrugged. “We’re not doing anything, are we?”

There was a tapping, and Valkyrie realized Skulduggery was beating a rhythm into the binoculars.

“No. No, we’re not. Just making sure a cult doesn’t kill another batch of helpless men, the usual.”

“Why are they helpless?”

Skulduggery let out a humorless chuckle.

"Kiss me.”

The tapping stopped.

“That’s what you were saying earlier. Do it.”

Skulduggery looked at her, looked back at the compound, back at her. He gave a little shrug. “Of course, dear.”

“No façade.”

A pause. “Of course.”  

Skulduggery reached over, placed his forearm on the other side of Valkyrie’s head. He was over her, looking down, observing her. Then, his teeth were against her lips.

It was cold. Valkyrie moved her lips slightly, and Skulduggery obediently opened his mouth. Valkyrie slipped her tongue in between his teeth, and he pressed down gently as she slowly removed her tongue.

And then she laughed.

His head jerked back slightly, and then he gave a quick laugh too.

“Sorry,” Valkyrie apologized, grinning. “I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Not like that. Just—it was new. And interesting.”

Skulduggery gave a nod. “I’m very interesting. You should see what I can do  _with_  a tongue.”

Valkyrie made a face, then laughed again. “Oh, wow, okay. Kiss me again before you say something you really can’t recover from.”

Stakeouts were much more interesting after that.


	14. Movies

Valkyrie looked at him, mouth threatening to grin, but she had the horrifying feeling that Skulduggery was being serious. She looked down at the man, now unconscious in her hands, then back up to Skulduggery.

“The movies?”

Skulduggery smashed an elbow into a woman’s face. Once, twice. “Yes. It’s that remake, of that—“

“Oh. Oh, no, Skulduggery, you really don’t want to.” Valkyrie punched a man’s throat, and he fell to his knees, and she kneed him under the chin. “It’s… Remakes aren’t… No.”

Skulduggery observed the fallen foes around them. Not really foes. More like guards that were really rubbish at their jobs. He led on through the movie studio.

It was dark and empty and Valkyrie’s footsteps echoed. Abandoned sets—a desert, a throne, an airplane—scattered around, half rotting, decrepit. It would have been creepy had they not just beaten up a bunch of wanna’ be actors.

“I don’t have anyone to go with.”

Valkyrie laughed at him. He looked at her, and she stopped, but she was still grinning.

“What were movies like, when they first came out?”

Skulduggery held a hand out, reading the air. But all of the shit guards were behind them. Now, it was just finding the big boss. Valkyrie looked up to the rafters, to the pigeons roosting there. She kicked an abandoned Viking helmet.

“They were silent, and it was mainly slapstick.”

“No, like, what were they like? Original?”

“Awfully hard not to be original when there were literally no other movies to copy from.”

“But they had heart, right? Soul?” Valkyrie wiggled her fingers. “They tried to be cool and unique and funny or heart-wrenching. Movies now? Not so much.”

Skulduggery laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be cynical about _movies_ of all things. I just want to see the remake. I saw it a couple of years ago.”

“… Skulduggery, it’s a remake of _Casablanca_. You’re going to be really, really disappointed.”

“Nonsense!” Skulduggery put a skip in his step.

“No, listen. I’ve seen remakes. I’ve seen movies. Remember that one time you were trying to find your arm and I said I was sick? When I said I was _really_ sick? I wasn’t. I went with Tanith to see the _Star Wars_ remake.”

Skulduggery looked at her. Up ahead, there was chanting and the shudder of cameras recording. But Skulduggery was looking at her.

“I was in a swamp, looking for my arm, and you were watching a movie?”

“Focus,” Valkyrie said. “The important thing to gather from this is that I saw the remakes and Skulduggery, buddy, they were really bad.”

“Did you just call me ‘buddy?’”

“They were horrific. Tanith had to leave the theater. She had to step out, and I had to make sure she hadn’t run off, because that’s how bad it was. She was just sort of standing there, this, like, lost look in her eyes.”

“I feel as though you’re exaggerating.”

“The sad thing is that I’m not. You don’t want to see the remake. Did you like _Casablanca_?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

"Well enough so that I want to see it retold in color.”

“You don’t. Because then the movie will be ruined for you. You might see the new one, think it’s okay, but then you’ll rewatch the original and you’ll just…” Valkyrie’s eyes were on Skulduggery, but she was looking beyond him. Looking somewhere horrible. “You’ll feel empty.”

The chanting had stopped, but Skulduggery tilted his head.

“Stop smiling.”

“Valkyrie, I wanted you to take me to the movies, and you’ve basically just told me I’m going to lose an important part of myself. It’s just a movie.”

A man stepped out of the dark. He was grand, with a mustache and a cape and a really ridiculous pair of red boots. Valkyrie looked at him.

“Welcome, Pleasant and Cain,” he began.

“Oi,” Valkyrie called, “what do you think of remakes?”

The man, who was planning on filming a magical offering to the Faceless Ones and then releasing it to the BBC, blinked at them. There were frantic shouts for help from whoever they were supposed to be saving, but Valkyrie wasn’t worried if the cameras weren’t rolling.

“Remakes?”

"Movie remakes, you know.” Valkyrie jabbed a finger at Skulduggery. “ _He_ wants to see the remake of _Casablanca_.”

The man pulled a face. “Oh.”

Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery. “I told you.”

“Shut up, the both of you.”  

* * *

 

They did end up going to see the remake of _Casablanca_. Valkyrie fell asleep within the first twenty minutes, mainly because they had just finished beating up the fellow with the red boots and saving the poor extra who was going to be sacrificed.

Skulduggery had sat, disguise on, in silence, Valkyrie’s head on his shoulder as she slept.

He jerked and she sat up, blinking at the dark, deserted surroundings. She looked at the credits, grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“So?”

Underneath the wig and the scarf and sunglasses, Valkyrie couldn’t see his expression.

Oh, there was something. His whole head moved forward a fraction, like he was releasing a breath, and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“You hated it!” Valkyrie pointed at him. “I told you! I _told_ you! It was shit, wasn’t it? It was.”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to rewatch the original. I know what you’re going to do. And you’re going to feel empty.”

“You’re really annoying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **From[armageddon-outta-here](armageddon-outta-here.tumblr)** : 
> 
> so at the mk signing today, this dude ahead of me asked derek ‘what is skulduggery’s favourite chat up line?’
> 
> derek’s reply: ‘will you go with the cinema to me? because i have nobody to go with.’
> 
> and i thought that was beautiful.:


	15. Sand

Ajuoga gave Fletcher that smile. God, she was so beautiful. She reclined, Devoted scattered about like support columns. Devoted held these women up. Princess sat nearby, feet folded under her, head down.

Fletcher had called her a princess when he had first seen her. He had been lost for words, at half of himself, at the blue eyes. The name had stuck, even when Fletcher had grown to hate her. His little princess, obedient and superior; it was a joke now.

“Last time you visited,” Ajuoga said, smile so, so nice, “your friends tried to keep you away from us.”

Fletcher gave a little shrug. A smile would work on some of the others, but not her.

“They did.”

“And we threatened to kill your favorite daughter, and that was the only thing that brought you back.”

Fletcher hesitated, then gave another shrug. “It was.”

“Then why should I?”

And then, Fletcher slumped. His arrogance burned away and it was just him, shackled, tired, standing there in front of her. Because he was done pretending. He did that so much now. Because Ajuoga needed to see him broken, and he just  _couldn’t_ —

“Because I miss my friends,” Fletcher finally answered, voice still disinterested.

Something in Ajuoga softened. Princess, next to her, looked at Fletcher in the eye. Deemed him worthy enough of eye contact. His gaze held no warmth for his first child.

“Oh, my love,” Ajuoga said. She raised a hand, like Fletcher’s sadness had finally raised her to sympathy. “Of course. Of course you may visit.”

Suhailah was summoned, and Fletcher’s chains were placed on her. Fletcher had to inflate himself again, and he knelt down to her level, grin there and hair styled and back in his—

“You’re leaving?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Just for a little bit. I can’t stay here  _all_  the time, can I?”

And she looked at him, confusion written across her features.

“Why not?”

And Fletcher faltered, smiled, reached out to touch her and stopped himself, stood. He nodded at Ajuoga, hefted his backpack he had brought back last time. He needed a new one; this one was falling apart.

Fletcher teleported.

London. It hit him like a shock. Cars and people and rain, sweet, sweet rain. Fletcher stood on the roof and just let it drench him. Rain. It was still filthy, and Fletcher laughed, and then he was in China.

Then Russia. He teleported to the top of the Eifel Tower and jumped, screaming and he flicked through—cold, hot, rain, wind—and then he was in the middle of the ocean, the Australian coast there.

Fletcher did this over and over again. One mountain, another, towers, planes, over and over again, jumping and flicking through everywhere he had missed. He couldn’t see it enough. He gorged himself on pizza from Italy and America and got mochi from Japan and then he was jumping again.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually he was in Ireland.

Nowhere in particular. Just a field, somewhere that was really…  _Irish_. Fletcher sat down, listened to the wind in the grass. He had sat and listened to the waves in Australia, the rain in his hometown. What sweetness sound was.

It took him longer than he would have expected to find them. But he did. Trailing after, like always.

Fletcher knocked on the door. Rang the doorbell. Waited around.

Valkyrie opened the door, scowl already set.

“I thought…” She stared at him. “Fletcher?”

Valkyrie looked different. She was stronger, solid, like she was always going to be. Hair still long, pulled back into a bun. And she seemed… tight. Like if he pushed her, said the wrong word, her whole façade would snap and she would cave in on herself.

Valkyrie’s eye twitched, and her mouth tightened, and then she was grinning. Hugging him, so strong she knocked him back a few steps. Fletcher laughed, and she pulled away.

“You’re wet.”

Fletcher raised an eyebrow, and Valkyrie punched his shoulder. He held up his hands.

“I went swimming, sue me.”

Skuduggery returned, and Fletcher shook his hand. Valkyrie was trying so hard to make everything okay. But Fletcher caught her staring off into space, and then she would shake her head violently, force her attention back onto him.

Skulduggery started, too, if anything to make it easier for her.

“The usual,” Skulduggery said, standing near the armchair Valkyrie was sprawled in. “Saving the world, wearing nice suits, being all together charming and fantastic. Valkyrie?”

Valkyrie blinked, looking at Skulduggery then Fletcher. “Humble,” she said after a moment.

“Did you defeat Darquesse?”

Skulduggery adjusted his cufflinks. “She’s gone. Disappeared off of the Sensitives’ maps. Whatever they saw, it was averted somehow. I doubt she was even real, more a manifestation of the war. Blackness spreading across the countryside.”

Fletcher nodded. “How is… everyone?”

Skulduggery was still, and Valkyrie was gazing off into space. It’s like they weren’t even there. Like their minds were somewhere else, and eventually Valkyrie looked at them.

“Alice is good,” she forced. “Mum, Dad, good. Steph…”

Fletcher’s stomach dropped.

“Steph’s around,” Valkyrie said, looking away. “She asks about you, sometimes. When her husband isn’t about.”

Skulduggery looked at her, and she was mortified, Fletcher could see it on her face. Tension wracked her frame, and Valkyrie looked at him.

* * *

 

A year. It took them a year to return to the pyramid. By that point, Fletcher had stopped pouting. The chains were a part of him now as he climbed the bridges, high in the air. He didn’t even feel them, but he hated raged when they had put them on.

Now, what could he do?

Wails of babies filled the nights. Fletcher listened to them. Night by night, the number of screaming inscreased. He had went to the first few births, but he had seemed out of place. The other Brides looked at him, smiled with a forced politeness, let him hold the child.

Princess had been the most beautiful, the first. So, so beautiful, and even as she screamed in his arms, Fletcher had grinned like an idiot and looked around. He met stony stares. Ajuoga had laughed like something was desperately funny, and Fletcher felt a little lost.

All daughters. He didn’t ask what happened to the sons.

And Fletcher paced around. Every corner of the pyramid. Where the Devoted dwelled, the streams that ran without source, the shops, the corners, even the sand for miles and miles around.

Most times, he would just sit, gazing out. Waiting. Waiting.

But there had always been  _her_. She smiled at him, genuine smiles, and when the sand had baked away Fletcher’s resolve, it was to her tent he would retreat. She would hold him and smile. No one commented on their relationship.

It wasn’t one. He didn’t even know her name. Most Brides didn’t think it was important. Maybe she didn’t, either, but she would hold him.

A year, and  _she_  was pregnant. How could he leave?

And then Valkyrie and Skulduggery came back. Fletcher had been sent out to meet them. Valkyrie had started crying, shaking her head. It had been hot. Fletcher was used to it, nothing but a light pair of pants on. Valkyrie was red as a lobster, covered in sand.

“Who won?” Fletcher asked, the first word to friends in a long year.

“We did,” Skulduggery said.

“Then where the hell have you _been_?” Fletcher asked.

Skulduggery paused. “It was a long war.”

Fletcher laughed. “Rich. You probably didn’t even remember me. I’ve been stuck here. Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t Gracious or Donegan or… What?”

Valkyrie closed her eyes. “They’re dead. So many people, Fletch, they’re all… We had to clean up. We were… Without us, it would have been…”

“You  _left_  me here.” Fletcher shook his head. “You said you would come back.”

Valkyrie gritted her teeth and opened her eyes. “We  _are_  back.”

“I can’t leave. Not… They’ll kill her. They’ll kill everyone. They don’t even care. They’ll kill the Devoted just because they know it’ll mess with me. They don’t—“

Skulduggery tilted his head. “We’ll stop them.”

Fletcher laughed in his face. “You and what army?”

Valkyrie looked sick. “I could.”

* * *

 

Ajuoga ran at Valkyrie. Valkyrie looking sick and torn, hand pressed against her ear, and finally Fletcher—

“Just stop!” he yelled. “Keep me! Let them go! I won’t run away!”

Valkyrie took a breath and fell to her knees, and Ajuoga looked over at him.

“You keep me, Skulduggery and Valkyrie leave, and you don’t help the warlocks.”

Ajuoga smiled. Fletcher still loved her smile. “And you’ll breed with us?”

“Yes.”

And maybe, deep down, Fletcher had thought Skulduggery would protest. Wouldn’t let Fletcher go like that. But Skulduggery had looked at him with those eye sockets, and then he took Valkyrie and ran away.

But what was Fletcher to Skulduggery? Valkyrie looked close to breaking, so close to doing something. Of course had chosen her.

And they had run away.

But they would be back. They had to. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[imthesweet](http://imthesweet.tumblr.com/) said** : am i the only one who kinda wanted to see what would happen if they did leave Fletcher with the Brides of Blood Tear?


	16. Puddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An actual continuation from chapter twelve.

It was raining.

Valkyrie reflected on this fact, sprawled in a lounge chair, eating the pizza room service had brought. Just two days ago, Valkyrie had sunbathed on the beach. Now, the rain had probably washed away all the sand.

“I’m bored.”

Skulduggery didn’t answer. He adjusted his hat in the mirror, pulled it low, pushed it higher on his skull, down again. He was bored, too.

“Let’s go. I just figured something out.”

Valkyrie frowned. “No, you didn’t. You just want me to get all wet while you deflect all the water.”

“Nonsense. I did figure something out. It’s all very clever.” He walked over to the hotel door, turned and waited for her.

“You didn’t figure something out,” Valkyrie grumbled. She stood and brushed off the crumbs. “I’m not even going to get dressed, because we’re probably just going to walk around in the rain for nothing.”

“You’re going to walk around in your bathing suit?”  

Valkyrie almost said yes, just to spite him, but in the end, she pulled on her black clothes. She glared at him the entire time.

“Let me wear your hat.”

Skulduggery pulled up his scarf, head down to avoid suspicion from trapped tourists. “No.”

“Yes, let me wear it.”

“You’re really annoying.”

“I’m sunburned and you’re making me walk around in the rain. I’m a little grumpy. Oh, that lady right there is giving you a weird look. Maybe she’s a siren. Does she look hot?”

“The one who’s balding?”

“Maybe you’re into that. Not my place to judge.”

They exited the grand lobby, leaving marble and cherry wood for concrete. Valkyrie scowled at the rain, then glanced over to Skulduggery.

“You could keep the water off of  _both_  of us.”

“You were the one who was complaining that I was going to stay dry. Now, we’re both wet.”

“But we  _both_  could be dry.”

Skulduggery laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

They walked away from the hotel. All the statues and vast parking lots and pools stopped at the gates. Beyond that, a tourist attraction. Stands and small streets made of ancient cobblestone, houses made of whitewashed wood. When there was sunlight, the abandoned tents grew tables that offered shells and wood carvings.

Now, just a few locals scattered about underneath doorframes. The locals hardly looked at the two of them. Just another two tourists.

“I like it better like this,” Valkyrie murmured.

Skulduggery stopped at a junction between streets. He pointed.

“You go that way. I’ll go this way.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “It’s a street. How are we supposed to find a siren—a sexy  _fish_  lady—in the middle of a street?”

“Sneak up on her,” Skulduggery suggested, then moved off down his street.

Valkyrie waited, hoped that maybe Skulduggery would return, but in the end, she trudged off down the street. Even though it was raining, it was humid and hot. Valkyrie’s clothes stuck to her, and she debated removing her jacket versus getting drenched.

“Well,  _you_  look happy.”

Valkyrie blinked the rain out of her eyes and looked around.

A woman sat on the stairs in front of a tiny house. She was soaking, her feet in a puddle. But she had a playful smile. Her hair, dark with rain as it was, was probably blond when it was dry. She was strong, and she smiled again when she saw Valkyrie observing her.

“Why are you out?” the woman asked.  

Valkyrie looked over her shoulder, but she doubted she could see Skulduggery in the rain, even if he  _was_  there. She licked her lips and stepped closer. The woman had blue eyes.

“I’m not really sure. My—my, uh, friend and I are looking for someone, but I think he just wants to annoy me.”

The woman’s nose wrinkled when she smiled. “’Friend?’”

Valkyrie shrugged. “What are  _you_  doing out here?”

“I like the rain. I like how quiet the streets are when no one’s around.”

Valkyrie nodded. “It must be annoying. Having a bunch of tourists around all the time. I’d go crazy, probably start punching people.”

The woman laughed. “If you’re not a tourist, then, what are you?”

Valkyrie stepped closer. “We’re here to help. Some people have gone missing, and my friend and I are trying to find the person or persons responsible. Do you know anything about that?”

The woman’s smile fell slightly. She turned her head, and something was—wrong. Just for a second, the woman’s features seemed to shift, seemed to settle back into place a moment after the movement. And there had been something underneath, something wrong beneath the rosy cheeks.

“Is that your ‘friend?’” the blond asked, words sharp underneath he soft tone.

Valkyrie stepped back, surprised how close she had gotten to the woman. Skulduggery walked through the rain, hands in his pocket, sunglasses gone and scarf pushed down.

Valkyrie glanced at the woman, then walked back to meet Skulduggery five meters away. The woman watched them, reclined back on the steps, legs extending further into the puddle.

“Is that a siren?” Valkyrie whispered, looking over her shoulder. “She doesn’t look like a fish lady.”

“She probably wouldn’t kill many people if she  _looked_  like a fish lady. What were you talking about with her?”

“I’m not sure. I think something about tourists. How did she expect me to drown? Was she going to shove my face in the puddle and hold me there?”

“Well, she does look pretty strong.”

“What?” Valkyrie looked over her shoulder again. “No, my arms are totally bigger than hers.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “What does she look like?”

“Blonde, strong—not that strong—blue eyes, nice smile, nice laugh. What does she look like to you?”

“She’s scowling.”

Valkyrie grinned. “That’s it? That’s your draw to her? She’s grumpy?”

Skulduggery looked at her, and Valkyrie felt like he was making fun of her, somehow.

He led the way back to the siren, and she smiled at the two of them.

“So, this is your friend?” she asked Valkyrie.

“Yep. Apprently,  _you’re_ the asshat whose been killing a bunch of people, so we didn’t have far to look. If you could stop doing that, we’d really appreciate it.”

Once again, there was something wrong with the siren’s features. She was smiling, but it looked like the mask was slipping. It was an angry smile, and Valkyrie imagined she could see another row of sharp teeth.

“Why should we? No one will miss them.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “ _We_  missed them.”

Skulduggery nodded. “You’re not very subtle. If you snatched locals, maybe, but you’ve been going after tourists. Rich and American tourists; adjectives that are antonyms for tact and discretion. You have kidnapped and presumably eaten one of the most obnoxious types of human being imaginable, and that’s _before_  the second wives notice their husbands have gone off.”  

The woman looked at Skulduggery. “Why would we eat locals? We like the locals. When the tourist season dies down, it’s peaceful. The locals stay out of our way, and we stay out of theirs. If anything, the locals should  _thank_  us for what we do.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You keep saying ‘we,’ but where are all your friends?”

“Did you really think it was just  _me_  eating all those nice Americans?”

Skulduggery started to say something, but the puddle in front of them rippled. Two hands shot out and wrapped themselves around Valkyrie’s ankles. They pulled, and Valkyrie fell on her ass, and then she was dragged into the puddle.

Valkyrie tried to kick out, but then she actually got a good look around her.

It was massive. Like an impossibly deep, impossibly vast lake. It stretched out into endless gloom. Above, there were shafts of light from other puddles, and as the hands pulled Valkyrie further and further away from the surface, they almost looked like stars.

Valkyrie forced herself to look down at her feet, but the murky green of the lake and the mottled skin of whatever was holding her against the dark of the seabed didn’t help. Valkyrie flexed her fingers, gathered her magic—

And it was gone, rushing through the water towards oblivion. Valkyrie stared in confusion, and the hands released her. She looked down, now that the water wasn’t slamming into her eyeballs, and saw mouth full of teeth, rows and rows.

Valkyrie kicked away, summoned her magic, but didn’t dare release it. She could feel it boiling underneath her skin, wanting to race through the water. Electricity magic was not all it was cracked up to be.

The thing beneath her coiled. It had arms and a long tail that ended in a blunt tail. Hair that curled through the water, tiny eyes. But God, the teeth. Rows and rows, like a lamprey, ready to suck Valkyrie’s essence out.

It—she stared at Valkyrie, and she stared back. Then she raised her hand, aimed carefully, and released a bolt of electricity. The siren didn’t have time to dodge, and it slammed into her. Valkyrie watched the siren twitch, and then fall still.

Valkyrie saw swirling masses of fins, but it was so dark it might have been her imagination. She needed to breathe, so she started kicking, aiming at the closest puddle and  _kicking_. She could feel her lungs burning.

Something swam above her, and Valkyrie let out another bolt of magic as a warning. She was going to make it, she was,  and the puddle looked less like a star and more like a moon, and then Valkyrie’s head breached the surface.

She took in a gulp of air, another, and managed to get one arm out. But the puddle was too small, and the rain had stopped. Valkyrie let out a crazy little laugh and she kicked out beneath and her and scrambled for purchase to pull herself out.

“Skulduggery!” she yelled, managing to pull herself up a fraction. “Skulduggery!”

She heard footsteps, and there he was at the end of the street. And then hands again, and Valkyrie was pulled under. Once again, the puddles shrank as she was pulled down, down, and the hands released her. Valkyrie spun, looking for someone to electrocute, but there was no one.

She sped toward the surface, breached, managed to take a breath, but then the hands, and she was pulled down. Two more times, and by the third time, her legs and arms were heavy and her chest was on fire.

They were playing with her.

And the puddles were disappearing. The sun had come up, and already the water was evaporating. Had she not been under water, Valkyrie would have started crying with frustration.

Where the hell was Skulduggery?

Once again, Valkyrie broke the surface of a puddle, and then Skulduggery was standing there. He grabbed her arms, waited until those cold hands clamped around Valkyrie and started tugging, and hauled her out.

The siren came with Valkyrie, face becoming pretty and hair blonde. She snarled, but Skulduggery threw Valkyrie to the side and grabbed the siren’s hair, hauling her out of the puddle until just the tips of her toes were still wet.

“Valkyrie?” Skulduggery asked, locking an arm around the siren’s throat. “Vakyrie, are you all right?”

Valkyrie was sucking in air. “I’m… fine.”

Skulduggery nodded. “You kept popping up in different puddles, and they would have swarmed me had I gone in after you.”

Valkyrie was too busy breathing.

Skulduggery tightened his hold on the siren. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding. We’ve been all over this island looking for you, and you’ve been under our feet the whole time. Clever.” He looked at Valkyrie. “I told you I had figured something out.”

Valkyrie glared, and Skulduggery nodded.

“When you scowl like that, you’re prettier than any siren.”

“I hate you.”

"I know, dear."


	17. Untethered

China had always wanted an attack dog. There was something so appealing about the thought of unleashing a beast on some poor, deserving person. Of course, China hated dogs, the slobber, the mess.

But people were the best attack dogs. Hatred did amazing things, and when that hatred was aligned with her… Delicious.

Especially when China wouldn’t have minded ripping apart someone personally; but she was a Grand Mage, and that behavior wouldn’t abide. So attack dogs would have to do. Even if she really wanted to be the one—

“Valkyrie,” China greeted.

Valkyrie stood there, the mirrors reflecting her like an ink blot across the mirrors. She held her chin up, questioning and defiant. She didn’t smile, or greet China. Not anymore.

“Why did you call me?”

China let out a sigh. “What happened to the old days? We would gossip, and laugh, and you would cower in fear and awe of your Grand Mage. I miss them.”

Valkyrie didn’t say anything, but China wasn’t going to budge. Valkyrie knew she had called her here for a reason, and despite Valkyrie’s reputation, China was a friend. A useful friend, all things considered.

“China,” Valkyrie said.

She did say it sad. There was so much in that name. It was layered,  it was irritation, something underneath that swirled and threatened to break into sadness or boundless, futile anger.

“I found him.”

Valkyrie blinked. “Him? China, there is no  _him_. I’ve looked.” She gave a smile, sharp and pointed. “Trust me, I’ve looked.”        

“Have I ever let you down before?”

And maybe that was a joke, and China hoped that Valkyrie would take it. China was dying for some banter, anything. If there was one thing China missed, it was her lost books and banter.

But Valkyrie didn’t answer.

“He exists. I’ve found him.” China held up a slim file. “A name and his last known location. I’m sure you can do the rest.”

Valkyrie stepped forward. “He doesn’t exist,” she said, but her voice was hoarse. She took the file. “He doesn’t exist.”

And China wondered if that was what Valkyrie had comforted herself with. Late at night, waking up screaming from nightmares, stalking through alleys and blackening bodies with electricity— _he doesn’t exist_. Something to stop the slaughter.

Valkyrie opened the folder, mouthed the name to herself. And then rage twisted across her face, still so pretty. The folder crackled, caught fire, and Valkyrie left, leaving the room smelling of smoke and ozone.

* * *

“Val?”

Valkyrie didn’t blink. Tanith stood in front of her, sword drawn but lowered. Tanith didn’t want to fight. Of course she didn’t, but it had been her trailing after Valkyrie, making sure she behaved herself, begging for an argument. 

“Val, you don’t have to do this.”

The house was behind her. It was a nice neighborhood. Tanith wondered if Valkyrie would raze it to the ground. It wouldn’t be the first time. She was surprised Valkyrie wasn’t in a Gaol right now for even being in the country.

“Do you think he would want this?”

Valkyrie jolted. She gave the first laugh Tanith had heard in a long time.

“Yes, I do, actually. He’d want me to say something clever and kill the person who killed him. But I don’t have anything clever planned. I think he’d understand.”

Tanith swallowed thickly. “Do you think he’d want you to kill everyone else?”

Valkyrie looked around the neighborhood like she just remembered where she was. It took her longer than Tanith would have liked for Valkyrie to meet her eyes again.

“I never said I was going to kill them.”

“Do you know what everyone calls you?” Tanith tried. “They call you Darquesse when you’re not around.”

Valkyrie’s gaze moved past Tanith, to the house behind her. “Do they?”

“They do,” Tantih raised her sword slightly. “And at first I couldn’t understand why. And then I saw what you had done to that place in France. Val you… It would be better if you  _were_  Darquesse again.”

Valkyrie smiled at something Tanith had said. “Oh?”

“Because then I’d know it was  _her_. But all that you’ve done—everyone you’ve killed—it’s been you. It’s been Valkyrie.”

“We’re the same person,” Valkyrie said softly. “As much as Skulduggery denies…” Something flittered across her features, something that made Tanith raise her sword and get into stance. “ _Denied_  it, she was me and I was her.”

“Val,  _please_.”

Valkyrie looked so sad. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

“Then go home. Do you really think this will help?”

Valkyrie considered the question. “No. But what else can I do?” She laughed again, and Tanith’s heart sank. “What else can I do? Do you know what it’s like? He’s gone, and every time I turn around, I expect him to be there, and he’s  _not_. He’s  _not_. Every time.”

“Do you know for sure this man even killed him?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tanith stepped forward, and electricity crackled across Valkyrie’s skin, turned her skin translucent.

“What do you  _mean_  it doesn’t matter?!”

“Tanith, move.”

“No.”

“ _Move_!” Valkyrie snarled.

* * *

China smiled at the Sanctuary agent, and she saw her knees shake. The agent had come, as China has expected, and they were all making a big fuss. They hadn’t even seen poor Tanith, twisted and crying and cursing. They had only seen the neighborhood.

Could anyone really blame Valkyrie? China certainly couldn’t. She wouldn’t, and in her opinion, Valkyrie could have done a lot worse. China would have. She wouldn’t have left the family, for one.

“We demand you release Darquesse into our custody,” the scared, little agent said.

“I’m not Darquesse,” Valkyrie said from China’s side.

The agent’s teeth chattered. “We demand you—“

“I don’t think,” Valkyrie said slowly, “you demand anything. China does not control me. No one controls me. Do you really want me in your custody? All on your lonesome?”

 Cleavers stepped forward, bolstering the agent. China doubted Valkyrie was too troubled by them.

Valkyrie had strolled in, carrying Tanith. China had expected smiles, or laughter, or banter. She had gotten a hollow look. Valkyrie had dropped Tanith off at the medical room and had showered the blood off. 

The doctors had told China Tanith had been bleeding for hours, that there was little they could do. China had told them they could tell Valkyrie that. Now, Tanith was predicted to make a full recovery.

When the agent had arrived, in ridiculous fashion, face pulled into a controlled, practiced rage, China had welcomed her. After all, Valkyrie Cain had quit the detective business and was no longer employed under the Irish Sanctuary.

Valkyrie was a friend, albeit a dangerous and slightly unhinged friend, to China. All affiliation to the Irish Sanctuary was, in fact, in affiliation to China herself.

The agent looked ready to faint. “You’re harboring a fugitive.”

China smiled again. “I’ve invited Valkyrie over for tea. I’m not harboring anyone.”

And all that black Valkyrie wore seemed to seep around the room, making it dark and dangerous, and the agent fled. China reclined in her chair—throne, really—and watched as Valkyrie walked to the center of the room, lazily following the agent.

And then Valkyrie stopped, looked at her reflection. China wondered what she was thinking. What she could possibly be thinking. And China wondered if Valkyrie would ever joke again, or if Skulduggery’s death had taken that from her.

China wouldn’t blame her.  


	18. Basin

Valkyrie was sick. God, she was so, so sick.

She had felt it coming for a week. The sore throat she blamed on yelling, the aches she passed off as bruises from fights, the headaches she attributed to lack of sleep. But she had known, as one does, that she was getting sick.

When she opened her eyes Friday morning, her stomach was already rolling; rolling in the way that could only be quieted through vomiting. Valkyrie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and proceeded to moan. She ached.

After a few moments of mental preparation, she rolled onto her side. She let out another moan as her stomach did backflips. Her head was full of steel wool, and she could only breathe through her mouth.

She managed to sit up, and she realized she was covered in sweat. It soaked through her sheets. It was really, really gross. A chill sneaked its way into the covers, and Valkyrie wrapped the sheet back around her.

Valkyrie stayed like this, staring at the far wall, marveling at how sick she was. She never got sick. She was almost angry.

Skulduggery knocked on the door.

“I know you said to never wake you up, and I know you’re an incredibly lazy person, but I’m waking you up because we have actual things to do. Though, you’re probably up and offended that I would dare insinuate that you are lazy, so I’m redacting that and—“

“I’m sick.”

There wasn’t an answer from the other side of the door.

“I’m really sick.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I’m like, flu-sick.”

The door slowly opened, and Skulduggery stuck his head in. “Good God, you look terrible.”

“Cheers.” Valkyrie curled fell back onto the bed, sniffling loudly. “I’m dying.”

Skulduggery approached the bed like she was a wounded animal. “You’re really sweaty.”

“I’m actually dying. I ache. And my head aches. And I want to throw up because I know it will make me feel better, but at the same time, I really don’t want to throw up.”

“Please do not throw up.”

"I’m going to throw up on you.”

Skulduggery edged closer. “China wants to see us.”

“I’m going to throw up on her.”

“There’s been a bomb threat, and while she doesn’t think it’s a problem, she’s not amused. She’d like us to come in, take a look around, make sure no one looks suspicious. Trace the call.”

“I’m going to throw up on the telephone.”

Skulduggery laughed. “I can call in, we can go—“

Valkyrie threw up. Skulduggery lurched away.

“Fucking fuck!”

Valkyrie blinked at the pile of vomit. She looked at Skulduggery.

“I feel,” she said, “so much better.”

Skulduggery stared at her. “You are disgusting. You have snot all over your face. You have vomit in your hair.”

“I love you, too.”

Skulduggery stared at her for another moment, then walked out of the room. Valkyrie considered calling after him—maybe ask him to bring her some water—but she gave up and looked at the far wall. Skulduggery had painted her bedroom green. He said it was calming. It made her nauseous.

“There are times,” Skulduggery said as he walked back into the room, “that I miss being alive. When I see someone bleed messily all over the place, I do not. I have never been more pleased in my entire life to be dead than right now, seeing you incapacitated.” Skulduggery stopped in front of her. “Sit up.”

Valkyrie groaned and managed to drag herself up in a sitting position. Skulduggery handed her some pills and a glass of water. Valkyrie popped them in her mouth, chewed, and washed the taste down with water.

“I’ve always wondered how you were going to die.” Skulduggery picked her up off the bed, bridal style. “Maybe, I thought, you would die falling off of a high place. Didn’t see the edge of a cliff. But never did I expect you to die of sweating to death. This is disgusting.”

“I can pull off your arm,” Valkyrie mumbled, resting her head against his shoulder.

 “I’m having trouble holding onto you because you’re so slimy.” Skulduggery thunked down the stairs. “I wonder if you’d look like a raisin if I just let you sweat out all of your bodiliy fluids.”

Skulduggery placed her on the couch. Valkyrie fell into the cushions, grasping for a blanket. There wasn’t one. Valkyrie closed her eyes. Skulduggery poked her.

“Come on, get dressed.”

“Don’t I get a sick day?”

“You did get a sick day, but you used it up watching the  _Star Wars_  remake with Tanith. Get dressed, tie your hair back, and I’ll get a basin. You will not throw up in the Bentley.”

Skulduggery moved off. Valkyrie opened her eyes and saw her black clothes on the coffee table. She managed to get dressed while laying down, and she had just tugged on her boots when Skulduggery reemerged from the kitchen, brandishing a plastic bowl.

“You will throw up in this.”

“I’m going to throw up on you. Did you get the vomit out of my hair?”

“I did. I also got you a box of tissues.” He tilted the bowl, showed her the unopened box within.

“Pick me up.”

“You can walk. Valkyrie, please stand up. Val—oh, for God’s sake.” Skulduggery handed her the bowl and scooped her up again. “You’re lucky I don’t want to train another twelve year old. I’ve already put so much work into you.”

Valkyrie laughed. “I’m not a pet.”

“I meant you’re more like a nice knife I finally have balanced.”

Valkyrie managed to make it to the meeting with China. She threw up on her shoes. Skulduggery carried her back to the car, laughing the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write something productive, but why when I can fluff?


	19. Quotes

_... and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, 'That was fine.'_  

* * *

Stephanie sat in the Garda car and watched people pretend like they weren’t speeding. It was a fun game she liked to play every once in a while, when she was feeling particularly bored. Today, the sky a cover of gray that seemed to fade into everything below, was one of those days.

She had positioned herself in a bend of the road. People whipped around the curve, caught sight of her car, and slammed on their breaks. Stephanie watched, hoping maybe someone would miss her. A high speed chase. That was what she needed.

Careening around curves with firefight and screaming civilians. Rain-slicked streets that almost threatened to throw her car into a building or a tree, but tire grips so faithful she stayed—

The radio blared.

“Anything, Edgley?”

“About as much as you’d expect,” she said back, eyes not leaving the road.

“I heard there’s a black car headed your way, sounds like—“

And something  _sped_  by her. Stephanie ignored the nasally voice of Winnie and turned the keys. The engine started and then Stephanie was off, sirens blarring on. The car ahead—something old—didn’t seem too concerned.

Stephanie cursed as the car a head of her dipped into the opposite lane, sending cars skidding onto the sidewalk. Stephanie debated for only a second before she too passed the car ahead of her. They honked, and she had half a mind to flip them off.

The car ahead smoothly turned left, horns blaring after it. Stephanie cursed again as she sped by the turn, but she caught the next left. The cars ahead leapt out of her way, and soon she was parallel to the black car.

Stephanie pressed the gas, waited until she didn’t see the shadow of the speeder, and turned left hard. She passed through a narrow lane, sending a couple scattering onto the sidewalk. Her car slid to a halt in the middle of the intersection.

The black car was gone.

Stephanie gritted her teeth.

“Tailed the car. Got away.”

“Got away?”

“Yes. Lost it. It sped away. I did not pull it over. Lost it. Got a location?”

Winnie didn’t answer for a moment, and Stephanie stared at the radio, at the static. Reluctantly, Stephanie shut her sirens off and maneuvered into the proper lane, headed back toward her usual spot.

“They’re trying to find it now, but most of the other cars…”

Winnie’s voice faded into the distance as Stephanie drove. They wouldn’t ask her to follow up. That was always another Garda’s job. She was just traffic duty, ticket quotas.

The cars at the bend didn’t interest Stephanie for the rest of the day. Her mind was elsewhere, on cars that seemed to float above the ground, on impeccable drivers.

As soon as her shift was over, Stephanie switched into her car and drove through the streets. She excused the behavior as her normal routine, didn’t admit to herself she was looking for old, black cars. And, like always, she ended up at the tiny dingy bar.

A man hit on her, and Stephanie downed her usual drink until he went away. The bartender, a woman who flirted with anyone for tips and wore an eyepatch, never asked Stephanie why she came in every night. Stephanie appreciated that.

Plus, she was the only bartender who could mix Stephanie’s drink the way she liked it. So it pleasantly burned down her throat.

That night, Stephanie curled in her sheets and dreamed about broken windows and strange men with soothing voices who held fire in his hands.

Stephanie woke up with the alarm, like she always did, shook off the dream, and put on her uniform. When she asked about the black car, Winnie had already forgotten about it.

Stephanie pulled over seventeen cars. She drank at the bar. She went home.

* * *

Alice had convinced Stephanie to come to the fair. Stephanie had groaned and complained, but it had been her who offered to drive and pay for the tickets. They giggled to one another and walked through cheap rides that tried to hide the fact with colorful paint.

It was Stephanie who had convinced Alice to ride. It was a huge contraption, towering over the fair, a weight on one end and four seats on the other. Alice said it was forty stories, and in the tilting light of the night, Stephanie could believer her.

Stephanie screamed with primal delight as they went end over end, her stomach near her ears. She pressed against the straps of the seat, weightless, and for a moment, the world became clear and ripped a scream out of her throat.

Alice puked in a trashcan, Stephanie joking next to her.

“’Let’s go to the fair, Steph, it will be so much fun, Steph.’” Stephanie grinned and prodded Alice in the side.

“I didn’t say we should fucking go on  _that_!”

Alice perched on the trashcan, letting her gaze wander. Stephanie watched the ride start on another loop, imagined she could hear the screams of the four unfortunate souls.

“Steph, look.”

A tent, small, discreet, out of the way. Palm readings.

“Really?”

“It’s only ten bucks. And we can’t ride anything else, and I certainly can’t eat anything else. Come on. Come  _on_.”

Stephanie laughed in palm reader’s face and stole her hand away.

“That’s a quote from a book,” she told them.

It still bothered her.

* * *

The black car was back. It whipped by her, and it took Stephanie a moment to realize it had even flown by. She turned on her lights and skidded out onto the road, the sounds of the radio and static fading into the background.

God, this guy was fast. And  _good_.

Stephanie nearly lost control of her car making a hard right. She let out a panicked yelp as the trunk began to swing around, but she managed to get in back under control without slowing down too much. She grinned and gunned the engine.

The car had come late tonight, and the roads were deserted. It was just her and the black car, disappearing in and out of the street lights, barreling around hairpin turns and swerving into the other lanes and the sidewalk.

And then, the car braked. Stephanie laughed—she couldn’t help it—and pulled over behind the car. She sat behind the wheel for a moment, waiting to see if the car would take off again. But it was still, glistening in the yellow lamplight.

Stephanie got out. She didn’t really want to, but she did.

She strolled over and knocked on the window. The interior of the car was dark, and she couldn’t see the driver. All she could make out was a hat pulled low, and what looked like a scarf around the man’s mouth.

“I’m not sure why you pulled over,” she began, “because you broke so many laws.”

“How many?”

The voice struck a chord in her, and Stephanie frowned and tried to place where she had heard him before. It slipped around the edges of her memory.

“Well, I’m going to have to arrest you. So, uh, a fair amount.”

“I don’t think you  _can_  if you’re not even sure what laws I broke.”

“You broke twenty.”

“I feel like you just made up that number.”

“Maybe I did.” Stephanie glanced at the car. “What type of car is this?”

He told her, and she listened to his voice and tried to remember—

“Have we met before?” she asked, bending down closer to the window. “I swear to God I’ve heard you somewhere before.”

“I do commercials.”

“No, you don’t.”

The man’s silhouette shifted. “How do you know?”

Stephanie shrugged. “I just do.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Your uncle and I were friends.”

“Fergus?”

“No,” the man said, and he almost seemed amused. “No, not Fergus. Gordon.”

It struck Stephanie like a truck. “You were at the funeral.”

“I was.”

“And the will reading. Oh. Wow. Your name…”

“Skulduggery Pleasant,” he said, a little too quickly. “Stephanie.”

“I would love to chat but, you know, I’m supposed to be arresting you. I’m going to, in a second.”

“No offense, Stephanie, but this is probably one of the worst arrests I’ve ever witnessed.”

“I think I did okay. I mean, I caught you.”

“I pulled over.”

“After a persuasive car chase.”

He laughed, and she found herself laughing along with him. They didn’t say anything for a minute. Stephanie thought back to all those years ago, when she was twelve and grieving. Skulduggery Pleasant.

“Do you remember anything else?”

Stephanie looked at the dark driver’s seat. “What do you mean?”

“Around Gordon’s death. Anything…” He trailed off. “I really should get going.”

“Right. Yes. What would I remember around his death?”

Skulduggery didn’t answer for a moment. “I—“ His phone rang. He pulled it out, checked the caller ID, but didn’t answer. “I really should be off.” He didn’t move. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

* * *

_And your life is a long line of fine._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this is but :V
> 
> Alternative title: Skulduggery Leaves Her Asleep on the Couch


	20. Centripetal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Skulduggery spirals.

Skulduggery Pleasant did not consider himself a man.

He had lost that little bit of him on the battlefield, the part that made him  _good_. In more recent years, he had wondered if anyone was really  _good_ , or if it was just the body count at the end, or the winning team.

Skulduggery didn’t think much about good anymore.

Had he been more in tune with his emotions, had he cared to put names to them, he would have recognized he was depressed. Skulduggery didn’t care for his fine suits Ghastly Bespoke, deceased, had made him. He didn’t care for the purr of his engine, or the way magic weaved through the air.

He did look at the empty passenger seat a lot. He would sit in parking lots and look at the seat, imagine the way Valkyrie’s legs had folded or crossed there.

People were afraid of him. They avoided his gaze and they stepped out of his way when he walked. People had always been afraid of them. When Valkyrie came back, they were terrified of them. Of the mad skeleton and the murderous girl.

Insanity, Skulduggery reflected in the dark, gaze on the seatbelt buckle, was an awful lot like a black hole. You can never quite escape the pull, no matter how far you travel. He wondered what Valkyrie would have said to that.

Alice called by. She found him standing in the middle of the living room. He scared Alice, too.

“You all right, Skulduggery?”

Numbness was such a strange feeling. Skulduggery felt it creep over his fingers and infect his mind. It was like some sort of flammable gas, and once it had spread, it only needed a spark to—

_Skulduggery Pleasant isn’t here right now. He is shoving his gun barrel down someone’s throat and enjoying the look of fear and panic in their eyes. He is snarling and pulling the trigger and is turning to kill, kill, kill everyone there. Leave a message if you think he’ll care._

There wasn’t much point in anything. Skulduggery was looking at himself in the mirror. He was debating whether or not to change his tie to match his hat. Maybe he should forgo the tie.

He imagined her fingers. He had always liked Valkyrie’s fingers. Her fingers always said a lot about her. When they shook, when they reached out to do something, the way they would curl if she was nervous or hyperextend if she _knew_  she was nervous. He wondered what her fingers would feel like tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, what they would look like unwinding the scarf from his throat.

Skulduggery wondered what Valkyrie would think of him as he snapped the air and heard ribs break when the body  _thwack_ ed against the brick wall.

He was going crazy. It was pulling on him, that place within him, the center of his being that was calm and clear and oh so angry. He delighted in destruction and silence. Where he could lock away that part of himself that wanted to joke and laugh.

Maybe he wanted to go away for a while.

“Your aggression was  _unwarranted_!” the man in front of Skulduggery yelled. “You were told to  _subdue_! You murdered each and every one of them—they were begging for their  _lives_! We obtained the security camera footage and you _slaughtered_  them in cold blood.”

Valkyrie wouldn’t like this man. Wouldn’t like his voice or the way he held himself, with his arms held away from his body.

Skulduggery could kill this man. Skulduggery had that thought a lot, like a playful breeze. When Valkyrie was alive, it was barely there. Now, it threatened to knock him over. He could kill this stupid, stupid little man.

“Detective—“

Skulduggery wrapped his fingers around the man’s throat and squeezed and watched the veins come to the surface. It was like a fire burning in him, needing more fuel, needing to see this man’s blood ooze out of his mouth and eyeballs to pop.

What had Valkyrie called him, once? A goon.

Skulduggery looked at the passenger seat. He didn’t know where he was, or where he had stopped. He could move that seat and no one would say anything. She wouldn’t know because she was gone. Gone.

Skulduggery hadn’t talked. He hadn’t talked to anyone because they were afraid and he wanted to kill them all, anyways.

And without someone to talk to--

Pulling, pulling down. He was happy to go because no one would miss him just like no one would miss the murderous girl.

_Things couldn’t be pleasant without cain._

Skulduggery tilted his head in a smile, but there wasn’t anyone alive to know that.


	21. Velocity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Collab time!**
> 
> **[marthaemma96](http://marthaemma96.tumblr.com/) and I have combined our various talents to bring you this little fic! ^^ **
> 
> **They wrote the first half, while I did the second. :)**
> 
> **Go check them out on Tumblr,[fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7025486/Drapine96), or [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Drapine)!**

“No.”

“But—“

“Definitely not.”

Valkyrie stopped pacing through Skulduggery’s living room. She turned to him, hands on her hips. “You haven’t even let me finish explaining.”

“I don’t have to.” Skulduggery shrugged. “I already know it’s an awful idea.”

“It’s actually quite good. We just have to—”

“No.”

She frowned at him. “Why am I even asking  _you_? You’re actually the worst person I know at planning.”

He straightened himself. “My plans are brilliant.”

“They mostly consist of, ‘We go inside and start beating people to a pulp.’”

Skulduggery hesitated, then nodded. “They are simple yet brilliant.”

“Well, present me one of your divine plans, then. By all means, offer an alternative.”

When he didn’t answer immediately, Valkyrie nodded and started walking towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, following her.

“Okay,” she answered, reaching the door. She left the house and strode towards the Oompa Loompa.

“Wait a second,” Skulduggery called after her.

“Okay.”

Valkyrie stopped, waited a second, and then proceeded towards her car. She hopped in and started the engine. Skulduggery appeared at her window and knocked, so she cranked it down and smiled pleasantly at him.

“You can’t go on your own,” he said.

“Okay.”

Valkyrie put the car into gear and started rolling down the driveway. Skulduggery walked alongside the car.

“Valkyrie, you’re not even buckled. Valkyrie. Valkyrie, stop the car.”

As she was driving away, Valkyrie watched triumphantly in the rearview mirror as Skulduggery’s jaw moved, most definitely in a curse. He headed towards the Bentley to follow—

* * *

“Oh my God.”

“You keep saying that.”

Valkyrie was on her knees, eyes wandering over her car. Her poor, poor car. Skulduggery stood next to her, hands in his pockets, nodding along to himself. The Bentley was parked nearby. Valkyrie wanted to throw a stone at it.

“Oh my God.”

“And here I was thinking I saved your IQ. You really should wear your seatbelt. You’re lucky I was looking up when you decided to hit that tree, or your brain would be all over your windshield, and I’d have to spoon-feed you.”

Valkyrie reached out and touched her car’s door.

“It was actually a tricky bit of magic. You see, I couldn’t just create a solid wall of air to stop you from flying out the windshield; it would be no different than you running at a wall at seventy kilometers per hour.”

Valkyrie’s gaze fell on the Oompa Loompa’s hood, and she whimpered.

“What I had to do, you see, was to slow down your velocity forward so you didn’t smash your steering wheel too hard. The anatomy of a car crash is very interesting. You and your car want to keep going at the same speed you were at, while that tree very much wanted to stop you. While the car body is designed to transfer the shock of a sudden stop, human bodies aren’t quite so durable.”

Valkyrie dragged her eyes away from her car to look incredulously at Skulduggery. “You call  _this_ ,” she gestured toward what used to be the front part of her car, “durable?”

Skulduggery nodded. “It might be hard to believe, but had you been wearing your seatbelt, the mess you made of your car would have saved your life. Of course,  _I_  was awarded that honor. But the shock would have—“

"You should have saved the car.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You should have saved the car.” Valkyrie managed to get to her feet. “You should have pushed the tree out of the way.”

“So you could smash into the one behind it?”

“Or, I don’t know, pushed my car back onto the road. Oh my  _God_.” Standing had revealed a whole new vantage point of destruction.

“I didn’t think you were  _going_  to crash. Had you given me a little more warning, perhaps I could have saved you  _and_  the car. As it was, you don’t need spoon-feeding, and half your car is a mess.”

A new, terrifying thought had dawned on Valkyrie. “My insurance.”

“Oh, yes. We should probably give them a call.”

“No, Skulduggery, my insurance is going to skyrocket.” Valkyrie ran a hand soothingly over the Oompa Loompa’s roof. “This is a hundred percent my fault. They’re going to butcher me. I wasn’t even wearing my seatbelt.”

“That was stupid of you.”

“My poor car.”

“The poor tree. How would you like some hoodlum smashing their car into you?”

“Skulduggery, I’m grieving. I’ll have to get it towed to a shop, and then I’ll have to pay someone.” Valkyrie’s head rested against the roof of the car. “Someone’s going to have their greasy hands all over you.”

Skulduggery rested a hand on her shoulder. “Not to be insensitive, but we really have better things to be doing. Solving mysteries, saving the world, literally just about anything else.”

Valkyrie didn’t answer.

“Not to gloat, but this is a prime example of one of your awful ideas.”

“You’re not my friend anymore.”

Skulduggery sighed. “I’ll pay for it.”

Valkyrie turned around, leaned against the car, grinned. “Thanks, I knew you would.”

“You’re a terrible human. Can we go now? Do some actual work?”


	22. VHS: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two.
> 
> Torture. Much ahead. Avert eyes.

Apparently, the Sanctuary didn’t even  _own_  a VHS player. At least, that’s what the intern said as she showed Tanith to the room. Apparently, Skulduggery had to go buy one from some obscure shop. The intern found this really funny. Tanith did not.

Skulduggery was already there, standing straight. He nodded to her, once; short and quick.

China must have already seen it. Maybe she didn’t want to. Hell, Tanith didn’t even want to see it, but here she was, clicking the ‘Play’ button and wondering if Skulduggery was looking at the back of her head as she sat down.

The blue screen appeared—Val had given a fond smile at the VHS tapes when they had watched  _Star Wars_ , all those years ago. But instead of an orchestra and scrolling text, Valkyrie popped up on the screen.

She looked terrible. Whoever had gotten her, she had put up one hell of a fight. The entire right side of her face was smashed, eye swollen shut and lip burst, and covered in road burn. The only light in the room was from above, something stark and bright, so only Val’s face was illuminated. The rest of her body was in shadows; it probably wasn’t much prettier.

“Are you getting my good side?” Valkyrie asked.

Tanith was torn between crying and smiling.

“How long are you going to record me for? It can’t be too interesting right now. He’s going to notice I’m gone when I don’t Snapchat him back the first few hours. And by the time you edit this and drop it off, he’ll be looking for me.”

Valkyrie waited a few seconds.

“He wouldn’t shut up a few minutes ago, let me tell you.”

The camera jostled, and something red was held up in front of the lens. It took Tanith a few seconds to realize it was half of a jumper cable.

Valkyrie looked at it. “That again? I get all the unoriginal—“

The shot shuddered violently, and Valkyrie’s body was locked against her restraints, face locked in a silent scream as her muscles contracted.

Blue filled the screen again, and Tanith blinked. Blinked again. Blue switched to static.

“She said she would be back in a few hours. I was going to research, and she was going to follow some leads we had.” Skulduggery voice sent goosebumps across Tanith’s arms. “I found her bike and her phone, no signs of struggle. It was outside the pier.”

Tanith’s throat was dry. She turned around slowly, and Skulduggery still hadn’t moved. He was looking at the static on the screen. His head tilted ever so slightly, and Tanith wondered if he had caught sight of her expression.

Tanith forced professionalism onto her face and stood. She couldn’t sit. Not after that. She needed to stand, to go somewhere, to think about Valkyrie laughing or training or anything, not writhing in agony, jaw locked.

“Any ideas?”

Skulduggery still wasn’t moving. Tanith felt like she was the only one alive.

“Someone who knows her. She moved her family, after everything, but anyone who didn’t know that would use the pier. We’re checking the security cameras around the Sanctuary, street cameras.”

“Who would…”

It wasn’t really a question. Plenty of people. Tanith had been there at the trials, arguing against the binding symbols threatened for Val. She had been busy when Skulduggery had testified, but there wasn’t much of a trial afterwards.

“We were getting close to Dexter.”

Tanith turned her head sharply back to Skulduggery, met his gaze. “How close?”

“Close enough so he was cornered. Obviously.” Skulduggery’s head moved slightly back and forth. “We had addresses. I need you to check them over, bring Cleavers, bring a whole damned army.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Three days.”

* * *

Tanith hated working with Cleavers. They creeped her out, even now. She talked to them briefly, ordered two to stay with her, the rest to fan out through the crumbling apartment building.

It wasn’t very Dexter Vex. Tanith marched through the building, having the Cleavers kick in doors, searching the rooms herself. It had rats and broken faucets and cobwebs, and Skulduggery and Val must have been really close to drive him here.

Three days. Tanith thought back to all of her torture. Three days was a lot. Why hadn’t Skulduggery called her in earlier? He was probably checking everything out, calling her family, friends—Tanith deserved something earlier. But she was here now, and that was something. He had trusted her enough.

A Cleaver stood to attention and handed her a video tape. Tanith’s heart sank.

* * *

Skulduggery strode in, head snapping to Tanith. She wanted to smile or something, to put some expression somewhere in the room, but she pressed play instead.

Valkyrie’s hair hung over her face. She looked up, suddenly, like she hadn’t been aware there was another person in the room.

Tanith looked away. Skulduggery moved closer to the television.

“I’m sure you’re progressing nicely with your search,” Val said.

Tanith closed her eyes against the voice.

“But he’s getting awfully close to my tattoo.”

Of course she looked. The light source had shifted, and now her left side was illuminated. Her forearm was red and glistening, her right in shadow. A neat cut had been made around Valkyrie’s wrist, and the skin had been peeled back towards her elbow. Tanith could see the sweat dripping from Valkyrie, the tremors, the rasp.

“Does my nose look broken to you?”

Blue. Static.

Val, Val, poor Valkyrie. Tanith wanted to sink to the ground, sit there and stare into the distance. Tanith remembered nails through her collar bones, hands, her body screaming at her to do  _something_  against the pain that was being driven into her, that flooded her and pounded with each heartbeat.

Skulduggery stood in front of the television. His hand twitched, and for an insane moment, Tanith thought he was going to reach for his revolver. He hit the ‘Rewind’ button.

Tanith was moving before she could think. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for clues.” He looked at her hand on his arm.

Tanith peeled her fingers away. “Shut the sound off. I’ll help.”


	23. Quotes: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Continuation from chapter 19.**

_All this time I’d thought we were strangers, and it turned out we knew each other intuitively, in our bones, in our blood. It was kind of romantic._

* * *

Stephanie watched the ice cubes clink around her glass. She had been demoted today. Well, demoted might have been a strong word for it, but it was the same difference.

It was a slow night at the bar. The patrons oozed in and out, stealing glasses and leaving in pairs. Stephanie sank further and further into her drink, the gentle life of the bar her background static. The owner handed her another glass, and Stephanie nodded to her.

When she had first come here, Stephanie had hated the bar. The alcohol stung and the patrons looked at her with watery eyes. But the house was too quiet, too large, and so Stephanie wandered until she found herself here.

It was smoky. The haze drifted in front of Stephanie’s eyes and through her brain, pleasantly muffled. She could stay here forever, in this not-time. It was just the drink and the chatter forever, as long as she didn’t stumble back to her car.

“Is this seat taken?”

The voice was like an electric jolt. Stephanie looked up, blinked.

“I don’t think so. I’ll just arrest anyone who bothers you, if it is.”

She watched him. His hat was pulled low over his sunglasses, and the scarf was up to where his ears must have been. He waved away the bartender, and Stephanie had the strange feeling that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She suddenly felt very foolish with her drink and ponytail. She felt twelve again.

“Not the most reputable of places for a Garda to find herself,” he finally said, turning his stool toward her.

“Well, I’m not exactly the best Garda.” She had said it harsher than she meant to.

“Long day?”

“Stupid day.” Stephanie rubbed her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Please, it’s no trouble.”

“What are you doing here, anyways? You didn’t follow the Garda car, because I changed it out. Unless… Unless you tailed me.”

Skulduggery laughed. “No, I didn’t tail you. I happen to be here on business, but I was misinformed.” He waited a second. “Come here often?”

Something about the question made Stephanie look away. “What business?”

“Secret business.”

“What?” She looked back at him. “Tell me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. I want to, trust me. I do many interesting things, many dangerous things, and many, many secret things. But you, being in the place of authority, may see it befit of the law to arrest me. Or, even worse, interfere.”

“Are you a jewel thief?”

“What about my description led you to believe I was a jewel thief?”

“Went with my gut. It’s dangerous and exciting.” She shrugged, smiled. “Tell me.”

“You’re a very rude woman.” His head tilted, and she knew he was amused. “Very well: I’m a detective.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure all those cheating husbands appreciate the fact you break the sound barrier speeding to their motels.”

“I’m not exactly for-hire to rich wives. I investigate murders. I save the world.”

Stephanie laughed. “Really?”

Skulduggery leaned closer, and Stephanie’s reflexes were too dull for her to pull away.

“Really.” His voice was low and devoid of humor.

Stephanie could feel her eyebrows draw together. “Do you work for the government?”

“One of them.”

“Why are you here?”

She could feel Skulduggery looking at her through the glasses. She wondered what he saw there, why he was talking to her. His head tilted back in forth, like he was debating two options in his mind.

“I should go.”

The chair scraped as he stood up. It took a moment to register in Stephanie’s brain that he was walking towards the door. She followed, pushing through people that moved easily out of Skulduggery’s path and into hers.

Cold air hit her like a fist as she stepped out onto the street. Skulduggery’s dark suit was almost lost against the shadows of the night, but she caught sight of him and hurried after. She grabbed his arm—he was so  _thin_.

“Skulduggery, wait.”

He faced her, head tilted. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re annoyingly cryptic! You can’t just—just find me and then  _leave_!”

“Why not?”

Stephanie felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t know! You’re just—you  _can’t_. When I was twelve, those few weeks ago, now. Who the hell  _are_  you?”

And for a long few moments, they just stood there. Stephanie felt the blood drain from her cheeks, and she shivered against the chill. Her head buzzed and she felt her fingers tremble slightly. She kept his gaze. A long, long silence stretched between them. She wasn’t sure how to fill it.

“You shouldn’t talk to me, Stephanie,” he finally said.

“I thought we were over the cryptic stuff.”

His head bobbed and looked away from her in annoyance. “You’re perfectly normal. You have a job, a family, a life. I shouldn’t be talking to you. I should leave.”

“Why didn’t you leave when you saw me in the bar, then?”

“Because I’ve been known to make some foolish decisions, and I decided to sit down next to you.” One of his hands flexed, the fingers curling after extending.

* * *

“What?”

Skulduggery shrugged, knees bent to catch a look of her. “If it’s a problem, I understand completely.”

Stephanie leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his sunglasses. When that wasn’t enough, she kicked the door of the Garda car open, pulling her jacket closer to her to fend off the cold. Cars rushed by, storming through the puddles. The water fell just short of them, standing there.

“Well, it’s a little more than a problem. I’m on thin ice as it is, let alone if I arrest you and then let you escape with a filing cabinet.”

“You don’t have arrest me. You just have to let me escape.”

“With the filing cabinet.”

Skulduggery hesitated. “With the filing cabinet.”

“I just… With the  _whole_  filing cabinet?”

“I need a lot of information.”

Stephanie grinned. “Apparently. I can’t arrest you. They would take your picture—make you remove the hat and sunglasses, at least.”

She never asked about the sunglasses and scarf and hat. She didn’t care.

Skulduggery’s head tilted forward slightly.

"What?” Stephanie prompted.

“We could always… break in.”

* * *

****_Catastrophically romantic._


	24. Cleavers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _CLEAVERS_

It was so white it hurt Valkyrie’s eyes. She squinted against the glare of the florescence and sank a little further into her seat.

They were in the biggest of the bunkers, the one at the end of the long road to get here. Skulduggery had pointed out the various trails toward the other bunkers, cut out of the very gray stone of the mountains. It was a valley, the main bunker in the lowest point. The trees had been stripped, leaving nothing but the powdery stone.

Cleavers marched up and down the cliff faces. They were like little, walking boulders.

Inside the bunker was pristine white. Two Cleavers stood at either side of the room.

“Skulduggery,” Valkyrie whispered.

“You realize that everyone in the room can hear you, don’t you?” he asked at a normal volume.

Valkyrie nudged Skulduggery with her elbow and pointed at the Cleaver closest to her. “He just moved.”

“Fascinating.”

“He fidgeted.”

“Wow.”

“I’m not used to them fidgeting,” she muttered.

“Well, he does look young.”

A door opened. Valkyrie blinked at it, feeling a strange pang of vertigo. She hadn’t realized there even  _was_  a door, and yet it was open, and the shadows were doing strange things to her eyes. Skulduggery stood and she followed suit.

A man stepped out, hands behind his back. He wore the same uniform as all other Cleavers, with no helmet. His head was shaved, and Valkyrie was reminded of a clothing mannequin. He shook both their hands.

“Mr. Pleasant, Miss Cain, thank you for agreeing to investigate this incident.”

“Not a problem,” Skulduggery said. “It’s been a couple decades since I’ve last visited a Cleaver training center. Valkyrie has never seen one, so this is a fun little trip for the both of us.”

Valkyrie tried a smile at the man. “What should I call you?”

The man stared at her for a moment. Valkyrie was becoming uncomfortable.

“Cleavers give up their name when they start the training process,” Skulduggery said when the silence stretched on too long. “Sanctuary representatives usually issue orders to our friend here, and Cleavers are trained to remain silent and never question a superior. He probably hasn’t needed a name until now.”

“Oh. That’s sort of sad.”

The man switched his gaze back to Valkyrie. “You may call me what you wish.”

He turned and led them through the hallway behind the door. Valkyrie realized they must be passing doors, but the seam between the metal and the wall was nonexistent. She wondered how anyone found their way around in here. She had the irrational urge to kick the wall.

“But you must have a name,” Valkyrie said.

“I do not.”

“Not even a taken name?”

“I do not.”

Skulduggery jumped in. “Since Cleavers were children, they’ve been treated as a part of one greater machine. They don’t have enough  _self_  to need a taken name. In fact, most children volunteered aren’t given a name to begin with, to make the transition easier.”

Valkyrie frowned. “How are you guys brainwashed, anyways?”

The Cleaver leading them didn’t answer, and Skulduggery seemed content with silence. They stopped at the end of the hallway, and the Cleaver reached out. A door opened back out onto the grey rock, a path that lead straight back through the valley. From this vantage point, the confusing, winding paths all branched off from the main one in simple pattern.

The Cleaver led on.

Valkyrie examined the various Cleavers they passed on the trail. They all wore the outfit, but the younger the Cleaver, the more ill-fitting and thread-bare the clothing was.

There didn’t seem to be a point to most things the trainees did. They passed a group doing push-ups, stones on their backs. Valkyrie made a face when she realized the Cleavers couldn’t have been more than ten. Another group was doing drills with their scythes; the same thing over and over again, in sync with the Cleaver next to them.

A strange rhythm filled the valley. Almost like marching. No one talked, but those overseeing the groups of Cleavers were quick to descend on errant trainees. Valkyrie heard the  _thwack_  of scythe blade on hands and backs.

“So, what do you guys eat?” Valkyrie asked.

The lead Cleaver glanced back. “Whatever is provided.”

“Do you like what they give you? Like, in general?”

“It doesn’t matter.”    

“Well, that doesn’t make sense. What if they just, like, fried up a shoe? What if that’s all they gave you to eat?”

Skulduggery chuckled. Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are. However, our Cleaver probably doesn’t have an answer. Just leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re here.”

Skulduggery and Valkyrie sobered. A trainee laid cut in half in the middle of the path. Three Cleavers stood around him, and Valkyrie could see the anger in their stances, the way their shoulders were tensed. When it was fresh, the blood must have been the brightest thing in the whole valley. Now, it too was faded and dull.

Skulduggery walked around the body, and the Cleavers keeping watch withdrew to the side of the trail with the one who had been leading. Valkyrie grimaced.

“Thoughts?” Skulduggery asked.

“Well, it’s definitely done with a Cleaver blade.” Valkyrie stepped as near as she dared. “I have no idea what the motive would be.”

The helmetless Cleaver stepped forward. “This particular initiate had difficulty adjusting.”

“In what way?” Skulduggery asked, standing next to Valkyrie.

The helmetless Cleaver hesitated, ever so slightly. “The initiate was accepted later than usual into the program. He had trouble adjusting to some of our techniques.”

Skulduggery tilted his head. “That seems like motive enough.”

The Cleaver didn’t react. It was like he wasn’t even a human. “He was one of us. Whoever killed him may have believed he was doing so for the group’s overall benefit, but that initiate must have also had trouble adjusting to our ideology.”

“Wait,” Valkyrie said, “you expect us to try and find the  _one guy_  who killed him? You guys literally try to erase your personalities. And you all look the same.”

“I reported the death to my superiors. My superiors sent you and Mr. Pleasant.”

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. “That sounded a little sassy, don’t you think?”

“The truth isn’t sass, Valkyrie.”

“Either way, this feels a little impossible.” Valkyrie leaned closer. “And between you and me,” she breathed, “this place is  _really_  creepy.”  


	25. VHS: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of two. Continuation from chapter twenty-two.
> 
> Torture. Yay.

The bar sank into the darkness, cigarette smoke turning the corners endless. Everything felt yellow, and Tanith smiled politely at the bartender as she took a seat. He eyed Tanith, glass in his hand, and the bar's murmuring died away.

"Have anything that doesn't come in a glass?" Tanith asked.

The bartender shook his head. "We're not serving you."

Tanith lost the smile. "Well, that's a terrible way to run a business."

"Where's the skeleton?" the bartender hissed, leaning closer. Already, a few patrons were hurrying out, head low, eyes darting. "I know he's around here."

"Just be happy you got me." Tanith kept her voice calm, even though she could feel the seconds drags by. How long until infection, until shock. Skulduggery knew, but she wasn't going to broach it. She couldn't. "Do you have any information?"

"That was a onetime deal, before you fell back in line, Low." The bartender grip on the glass turned his knuckles white. "Get out. I don't know anything. She's getting what she deserves, you don't just get to break the law,  _murder_  people. It was only a matter of time before she went missing."

Val, laughing, arms wrapped around Tanith's middle as they flew down the highway. Val, rubbing her arm after one of the hearings, looking at Tanith— _they can't take my magic away_. But Tanith hadn't seen anything, none of the things the scholarly essays claimed Valkyrie, Darquesse did.

Tanith hadn't even realized she had pulled her sword out.

* * *

They drove in silence, Skulduggery texting with one hand. It was so, so quiet in the car. She watched Skulduggery move out of the corner of her eye, how the car stayed on the road even when Skulduggery shifted with his remaining hand.

Tanith could feel her head dipping, and she kept jerking back awake. There was no time, but Tanith could already feel her judgement slipping, the thoughts sliding out from underneath her. And all the while, Skulduggery, dark and dangerous and quiet.

He knew, too.

"Skulduggery," Tanith began.

"Don't." Skulduggery placed the phone in his pocket.

Tanith looked at him. "You need to hear this! How long has it been, do you think, Skulduggery? How long has she been tied to that chair? How much do you think he's peeled off of her? We have to—"

The car sped up. "Have to what? Tell me Tanith, how do we have to give up on Valkyrie?"

"We have to accept the possibility that Valkyrie—" Tanith's voice cracked. "We're not giving up on her."

"It sounds an awful lot like you're giving up on her. You think that she can't take it, just because you're weak. You don't know her like I do. She'll keep fighting until he drags a knife across her throat, and even then. Don't you dare," the car swerved around traffic, jostled Tanith, Skulduggery stared ahead, "Don't you dare underestimate her."

"Skulduggery…" Tanith's words died in her throat when he looked at her. She opened her mouth, shut it, looked out the window. "Are the Cleavers on their way?"

"Yes."

They weren't there when the Bentley pulled up. Skulduggery shut the car off and was already half way to the house by the time Tanith had unbuckled her seatbelt and gotten out. They were supposed to wait for backup, for the ambulance, but Skulduggery was at the door.

Tanith reached out a hand for the door as Skulduggery kicked it open. Tanith drew her sword and the smell of blood hit her nose. She opened her mouth, tasted it, and she was pushing past Skulduggery into the kitchen.

"Val," Tanith cried out, dropping to her knees beside the chair. "Val, Valkyrie, Val, open your eyes."

Skulduggery was beside her, fingers pressed against Valkyrie' throat. Tanith wanted to cry out, scream to hurry up and let her know what had happened, please, please, not someone else, Tanith couldn't bare it, not Val too.

Skulduggery took out his gun and moved away, and Tanith heard a rasp of breath. Tanith allowed herself a second to rub Valkyrie's upper arm, hoping that maybe Valkyrie felt it, knew she was safe now.

Upstairs, the sound of crashing furniture. Tanith stood, turning a part of her cold as her eyes swept the room. A Remnant. That's what they were going on. She felt sick as she picked her way through the house, sick at this senseless torture. This might have been her. Who had she tied to a chair and—

Tanith stepped over VHS tapes covering the floor. There was a TV in front of Val, the static on silence, and Tanith stared at it. What the hell had Dexter been doing? No, the Remnant had been doing.

She caught sight of the video camera, heavy and out-of-date. The cable.

Tanith looked back at the floor. How many hours per tape?

* * *

Two hours.

"I want them burned."

Tanith froze outside the door. Her eyes flicked from the crack in the door to her hand, hovering, unsure whether or not to push the door open. She hadn't known Valkyrie was awake—not that she had really expected Skulduggery to call her, but Val, maybe…

Skulduggery's murmur.

"I don't  _care_ ," Valkyrie said, her voice getting louder, "I want them all burned and I know he took some. I want to make sure they're gone."

Another quick, soft reply from Skulduggery.

"I don't know. I don't know. Which ones did he send you? God, I wasn't screaming, was I? Was I crying?"

A reply.

"He just kept talking. He told me things from Dexter's… It sounded so much like him, Skulduggery. I just…" Valkyrie's voice dipped lower.

Tanith took a few steps back and walked through the door, offering the chocolates ahead of her. "Look who's finally up, awake, out of the mud bath! And you know what always makes torture?" Tanith almost got the word out without choking. "It's chocolate!"

Val looked pale in the big, white bed. She gave Tanith a smile and held out her hands for the chocolate, which Tanith handed over. There was a few seconds of awkward silence. Tanith stood with her hands on her hips, looking from Skulduggery to Valkyrie.

Skulduggery let out a quick laugh. "Well, I suppose I should let you two get reacquainted. No, no, I'm fine. I did just spend the past week searching high and low, near and far for my misplaced partner, but by all means…"

Val scoffed. "Get out of here." She ripped open the chocolate. "Oh, you know what I would love? I mean like, really love? A doughnut and coffee."

"And now I'm an errand boy," Skulduggery mused as he left the room.

Valkyrie seemed to wilt when Skulduggery left the room, like he had taken some part of her. Tanith's eyes fell on Valkyrie's arm, the pale skin, a neat patch from the wrist to the elbow. Val opened the chocolate and popped one in her mouth.

Val looked so tired, drained. Tanith kept picturing her screaming, straining against the chains, or shaking with electricity, arm dripping with blood. Tanith looked away, wondering if the teeth had been replaced yet.

"So…" Valkyrie said around a mouth full of chocolate.

"So, Skulduggery missed you." Tanith tried a smile.


	26. Anatomy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, shameless. 
> 
> Also, a bonus anatomy lesson. I try to teach you with my trash. You're welcome.

Skulduggery rested his chin in his hand, flicking through the pages of his book. Valkyrie watched him, phone dead. Every minute or less, Skulduggery would turn the page, perfectly still except for his hand.

"How can you hear?"

He didn't look up from the book. "I feel like we've had this conversation before."

"No, really." Valkyrie sat up on the couch, leaned forward. "Because you have those tiny little bones in your ear, right? The ones names after drums."

"They're mainly named after hammers. I'm not sure where you pulled 'drums' from, but I admire the effort." He glanced up.

"All right, so magic or whatever keeps you alive—"

"If you call the magic behind one of the most unique, interesting specimens of this Earth 'whatever,' sure. Then I suppose your assessment would be accurate. Magic or  _whatever_  keeps me alive, sitting here, making fun of you. Judging you and your vocabulary."

Valkyrie waved her hand, waved away the banter. "But I've always thought that your magic works  _with_  your body. With your bones. How can you hear if you don't have your ear bones?"

Skulduggery hadn't turned the page, but he kept his gaze on the text. "The bones of the ear operate with soft tissue, of which I have a shocking lack of. It has to do with the inner and middle ear, liquid. The bones transmit the sound wave through the nerves to the cerebrum. Which," he reached up and tapped a finger against his temple, "I also have a shocking lack of."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so are you missing other bones?"

There was a silence Valkyrie didn't expect. Skulduggery turned the page in his book, and Valkyrie started to make a face.

"You're  _missing_  some?"

"I don't exactly ask you if  _you're_  missing any bones. In skeleton circles, in which I frequently travel, it's considered incredibly rude to ask a skeleton which bones he's missing. Inexcusably rude."

"Are you missing half a spine?" Valkyrie grinned. "Oh my God, what if you just have a broom handle instead of a spine? And you had to glue your ribs to it?"

"You seem to fundamentally misunderstand how ribs work."

"Oh, or a coat-rack!" Valkyrie laughed. "Can you imagine? Just your arms glued to the places where coats are supposed to hang?"

Skulduggery huffed. "Not that you would know the difference between a spine and a coat-rack."

"What? Yes I would. I challenge that." Valkyrie hesitated for just a moment. "Stand up."

"I'm researching."

"You challenged my honor, stand up."

Skulduggery heaved a sigh and stood, adjusting his tie. Valkyrie stood and walked around the coffee table, came to a stop in front of Skulduggery. She reached up and removed his hat, throwing it in his arm chair.

She tapped his forehead.

"Skull."

"You're off to an incredible start."

"Shut up." She tapped his chin. "Jaw bone."

"Mandible. One out of two. So far, I'm not impressed."

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, dug her finger into the knot if his tie, worked it down with difficulty. After a second, he batted her hands away and loosened the tie, hesitated, removed it. Valkyrie undid a few buttons of his shirt.

She bit her lip.

"Uh, collar bone?"

"Clavicle."

She ran her fingers along the collar bone, stopping when her fingers reached the edge of his shirt. They stood like that for a few seconds, until Skulduggery shrugged out of his suit jacket.

"All right, so I might be failing so far," Valkyrie said quickly, "but I actually know some more. Like, I think I took anatomy. Somewhere. I remember learning about bones before I met you. So, a while ago."

"I'm sure you paid attention in those classes. In fact," Skulduggery began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, "I'm sure you didn't doze off in the back of the class at all, head lolling, drooling on your notes. I'm sure that information stuck with you all these years."

Valkyrie stared at his forearms, internally panicking. She had always mixed up these two. She reached out slowly, tapped the bone facing her on Skulduggery's arm. "Radius."

Skulduggery's head jerked back. "Surprisingly, correct."

Valkyrie grinned and tapped the second bone in his forearm. "Ulna, then. See? I'm still at fifty-fifty." She took one of his hands, observed them for a long moment. "Hand bones," she decided. "We also have what looks like a wrist bone." She rested the tips of her fingers against his. "Phalanges."

"How do you get up in the morning?" he asked, chuckling. "Dear God, Valkyrie. This is embarrassing for me to even watch. You've been around me for years and the best you can come up with is 'wrist bone.'"

"I got phalanges."

"By some miracle."

Valkyrie unbuttoned more of Skulduggery's shirt. "You're missing part of your ribs?" She ran her fingers over the tips of his ribs, where she was used to seeing them connect in diagrams. Not that she looked up skeleton diagrams.

"The thorax—its technical name—is made up of cartilage. That doesn't survive fire, unfortunately."

"Huh."

She let her fingers slip in between his ribs, and he inhaled sharply. Valkyrie pulled her hands away, backing up quickly.

"Shit, sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Skulduggery shook his head, hands coming up. "No, you didn't. I just didn't expect it." He cleared his throat, unrolled his sleeves. "We really do have work to be doing. As much as I love showing you my superior intellect when it comes to anatomy, that—"

"I bet you don't know muscles," Valkyrie blurted.

Skulduggery stopped, hand frozen midway through unrolling. He looked at her and cocked his head. "I know just about everything."

"Prove it."

Skulduggery nodded once, to himself. He walked towards her, gently turned her around, pressed against her, put his mouth by her ear.

One hand trailed down her arm, murmuring in her ear, "Deltoid, biceps, triceps, brachioradialis, extensor carpi ulnaris, extensor digitorum."

They stood like that for an endless moment, Skulduggery's mouth against her ear, one hand on her wrist, the other on her waist. Valkyrie's eyes wandered to the clock on the wall.

"We're late for the meeting."

Skulduggery jerked away from her. "Oh, well, that will be hard to explain."


	27. Criminology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a high school/sophomore year/3rd year/10th year AU.
> 
> Yes, I really did this. No, I'm not crying, you are.

Stephanie had completely forgotten she had signed up for this class. She looked around the room; while most new teachers plastered their walls with diagrams and pictures and charts, this one had stripped the paint down to the concrete. The whole place felt like a dungeon.

There were only a few other kids. Stephanie watched the clock, and already some boys in the back were muttering about study halls after ten minutes.

She had sat nearer the back, but now she wished she had sat closer, to observe the front desk. There was a glorious leather chair, the comfy kind Stephanie imagined CEOs sat in. Something expensive, and Stephanie's chair felt harder than usual.

A man strode it, tall and thin. He didn't address the class. He wrote his name on the chalkboard in one long, eloquent string—

 _Mr. Pleasant_.

He faced them. Stephanie blinked. Blinked again.

The suit was ridiculous—it matched the chair. A hat, cocked low over the black sunglasses. Gloves that were dark, leather, no white chalk dust on them. And a scarf, wrapped around the man's face, covering almost all of his features.

"One of you is now dead."

Silence.

Mr. Pleasant nodded. "An expected response from a group of people who have just witnessed a murder. Not to worry: We should be able to find the perpetrator at some point. That all depends on how smart this particular class is."

Mr. Pleasant stood observing the class, arms crossed. No one said anything. He was probably waiting for a question.

Stephanie raised her hand, slowly.

"Uh—"

"Thank you for volunteering," Mr. Pleasant said, voice cheerful. "Early this morning, you were violently murdered. Do you know why you were murdered?"

Stephanie frowned. "Well—"

"Don't answer that, you're dead," he cut in. He turned to the rest of the class. "Do any of you have any idea why our friend here was shot?"

Nothing.

"I'm afraid we're not off to the best start. You," he pointed at George, "why did you kill—what's your name?"

"Stephanie Edgley."

"Why did you kill Stephanie?"

George seemed to struggle with an acceptable response. Mr. Pleasant waited a few seconds.

"Sorry, you're under arrest for the murder of Miss Edgley, here."

George frowned. "I didn't kill her!"

"That's not very convincing, is it, Stephanie? In fact, that's a pretty rubbish excuse, all together." Mr. Pleasant observed the class, but it was almost impossible to tell who he was looking at with those sunglasses. "However, what I just assumed there was wrong. Any idea  _why_  it was wrong?"

Another stunned silence, but Stephanie fought through it. "I didn't do anything to him."

Mr. Pleasant's head seemed to turn towards Stephanie. "Go on."

Stephanie felt the whole class' attention on her. "Well, why would he kill me if I didn't do anything to him? There's no reason."

"No motive." Mr. Pleasant turned, wrote  _motive_  on the board. "The thing which sparks all murder. I can't just assume he killed Stephanie because there's no reason behind it." He underlined the word. "We have to figure out  _why_  Stephanie was murdered." He turned around. "Any questions?"

A sea of hands.

"Perfect."

* * *

"Wait, you're taking his  _class_?" Hannah asked, leaning forward. "What's he like? I heard he worked for the government, that he solved that God-killer guy case. Is he smart? What's he like?"

Stephanie shrugged. "He's sort of weird. I'm dead."

Hannah frowned. "What?"

"I'm the first murder victim. We have to figure out why I was killed." Stephanie took a bite of her pizza. "We're having a test tomorrow."

"It's the second day!" Hannah gaped. "A test about what?!"

"He just said we were solving crimes on paper. Everyone's going to fail. He said so himself." Stephanie shrugged again. "He's really weird."

* * *

"This is a crime scene," Mr. Pleasant announced as the projector flicked on.

Stephanie winced and looked away. The rest of the class let out a noise of disgust. Stephanie dragged her eyes back to the image, stomach turning.

Mr. Pleasant sat back in his chair, feet on the table, looking out at the class. "What can you tell me about this murder based on this photo?"

Stephanie's throat was dry. "It's really bloody."

"Well, yes." Mr. Pleasant craned his neck, looking at the square of red against the wall. "I figured that was a given."

Had it been another teacher, Stephanie wouldn't have rolled her eyes. "I mean that it isn't perfunctory. A gunshot wound, or a poisoning. It's just…"

"Very bloody, yes. What we can assume from this fascinating little photo is that this is a crime of passion. Unlike yesterday, where we learned modern-day poisoning techniques, not everyone is as neat. Sometimes, they grab the nearest statue and pound someone's head in. Or," he flicked to the next picture, "perhaps a kitchen knife."

A girl in the back of the room stood up and hurried out, one hand over her mouth and the other around her stomach. A boy quickly followed, and Stephanie heard retching as the door shut behind them. Mr. Pleasant waited until they had left before continuing.

"It's also a perfect way to frame someone."

The lunch bell rang. Most of the students practically tripped over one another to leave the class. Stephanie watched them go, putting her notebook away leisurely. Mr. Pleasant flicked off the projector, and they sat in silence for a few seconds.

"The lunch bell went off."

"Yeah, it did." Stephanie settled back in her chair. "So, what exactly were you before you became a teacher?"

Mr. Pleasant's head tilted. "A detective."

"Because it sort of sounds like you were a serial killer."

He laughed. "Does it?"

"Uh, yeah." Stephanie gestured at the projector. "First off, you have an obscene amount of crime scene photos just sort of lying around. And your—" She faulted, pointed at his head, at the sunglasses and scarf, "Sure doesn't help anyone think you  _aren't_  on the run."

"The crime scenes are courtesy of a friend."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

"A friend on the force," Mr. Pleasant amended. "And I can assure you, the school does a very thorough job of background checks."

Stephanie shook her head. "Nope. See, I have this—Mr. Dupne, who also works for the main office. He said he needed special clearance by the Garda to see your files, clearance he wasn't granted. So really, you  _could_  be a serial killer."

Mr. Pleasant nodded. "I suppose it wasn't a good sign that I picked you to be the murder subject on the first day."

Stephanie grinned. "Are you planning to kill me?"

* * *

"That's your car?"

Mr. Pleasant looked over his shoulder. "You seemed surprised."

"Well, I mean, you're on a teacher's salary. Or you are now. The insurance on that thing must be insane." Stephanie walked around the car. "This thing seems like it's from the 1920s."

Mr. Pleasant walked around to the back of the car, unlocked the trunk. "Close; 1954."

Stephanie frowned. "I wasn't close at all."

"You really weren't, but I was trying to spare your feelings. So, let me rephrase: Good God, Stephanie, you couldn't be more wrong. This car—this  _glorious_  car-is from 1954. Give me a hand with these, that's why I agreed to get you out of English."

Stephanie sighed, came to his side, and took one of the milk crates filled with manila folders. He stacked another one on top, and she had to press her face against the plastic to keep it from falling over. When the trunk shut, she followed behind him, listening to his footsteps.

"So, what, your friend just agreed to let you make like, a thousand copies of your old case files?"

"Why did you want to get out of English?"

"You're not answering the question."

Stephanie stumbled, but Mr. Pleasant's hand was there in an instant, steadying the crates.

"Neither are you."

Stephanie frowned, not that he could see it. "I asked you first."

"My friend is very understanding. That, and I blackmailed him."

She laughed. "Oh my God, what? What did you blackmail him with?" Mr. Pleasant held the door open, and she stepped in, saw he wasn't carrying anything. "Take one of these!"

"I have a delicate constitution."

"If I trip and fall, the paper's going everywhere, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Mr. Pleasant grunted and took the top crate. "And you'll feel bad when my arm snaps off."

"What did you blackmail him with, though, seriously?" Stephanie looked into the classrooms as they passed. When he didn't answer she looked over, grinning. "Do you have dirt about his mistress or something?"

"Why do you hate English?"

Stephanie sighed. "I don't hate English."

"You said you did. You walked into my classroom, said you hated English, and for me to find an excuse so you didn't have to go."

"Hate is such a strong word…"

"You said you would throw yourself out of my window if I made you go."

"No, I said I  _might_."

"Miss Edgley—"

"Mrs. Molloy doesn't like me."

Mr. Pleasant laughed. He stopped when he realized she wasn't laughing along with him. "Oh."

"Yeah, it's funny when teachers hate you and you're not in their class. She's just so annoying. If anyone disagrees with what she has to say, she gives you a detention."

"We just walked by her classroom."

"What?"

" _Stephanie_."

The two of them turned, watched as Mrs. Molloy stormed down the hall after them. Stephanie glared at her, hugged the crate closer to herself. Mr. Pleasant, for his part, nodded, shoulders relaxed.

"Karen."

Mrs. Molloy looked between the two of them. "Stephanie, I was told you went home sick."

Stephanie coughed.

Mrs. Molloy's eye twitched. "You were already given a detention for this Friday for disrespectful behavior—what will your parents think when they hear you've been skipping class?"

"I'm sure they'll understand, considering I'm not skipping. I'm helping Mr. Pleasant." Stephanie tilted her head towards him. "He asked me to help get these murder files out of his car."

"Case files."

"You've been getting files for twenty minutes? I thought you were sick." Her face was getting progressively blotchier, and a little part of Stephanie hated her. "You're becoming quite the hoodlum, Stephanie."

"Well,  _Karen_ —"

Mr. Pleasant stepped in front of Stephanie. "Karen, it's my fault entirely. I sent Miss Edgley to my car, and she got lost on the way there, came to find me, then we  _both_  got lost—me being new here, while Miss Edgley is just a little dull—until we finally found my car. I can assure you, it won't happen again."

Stephanie forced herself not to listen to the response, and when Mr. Pleasant moved away, she followed him to his classroom. She dropped the milk crate on his desk, paced to the window, walked to the back wall, hands on her hips.

"God, I  _hate_  her. I hate her so much, Pleasant, you have no idea."

"I have an idea."

Stephanie turned to him, shaking her head. "She talks to me like I'm five. Like I don't know what I'm doing. I hate it here. I hate school and the teachers. How these things are just  _expected_  of me."

Mr. Pleasant leaned against his desk, hands in his pockets. "I understand."

And Stephanie looked at him, and he tilted his head at her, and she really thought he did.

* * *

Stephanie thought she knew why she was sitting across from her guidance counselor.

Her room was close and hot and stuffy, but Mrs. Clery had a nice face and she tried to smile reassuringly. Mrs. Molloy's face was red and smug and stupid, and Stephanie wanted to punch her right in the jaw.

"Stephanie, do you know why you're in here today?" Mrs. Clery asked again, breaking the stubborn silence.

"No, I don't."

Mrs. Molloy's mouth stretched and warped in a smile. "Really?"

Stephanie gritted her teeth and looked at the pen jar on Mrs. Clery's desk. "I just said so."

Mrs. Clery cleared her throat. "Mrs. Molloy told me about your friendship with Mr. Pleasant."

Stephanie looked up, frowned. "What?"

"It…" Mrs. Clery looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. "Mrs. Molloy has brought it to my attention that you and Mr. Pleasant have an extremely close relationship."

Stephanie's attention flicked to Mrs. Molloy. "Did she?"

"Yes, and she says the two of you spend a, a concerning amount of time with one another." Mrs. Clery's smile was dying fast. "You spend a good hour with him after school, as well as numerous times throughout the day."

"I help him grade papers," Stephanie explained, anger curling her fingertips behind her back. She refused to look at Mrs. Molloy. "The tests are extensive and unique, opinion based, so he can't just read through them quickly."

"Still," Mrs. Clery said, gently. "Mr. Pleasant is still new to the school, and we're… We were not given access to his teaching record."

"He had to go undercover."

"Stephanie," Mrs. Molloy said, but Stephanie still didn't look at her. "I'm just concerned he may be—"

"Would we be having this conversation if I was a boy?" Stephanie asked, voice rising. "If Mr. Pleasant was a woman?

"The fact remains that your relationship with him," Mrs. Molloy's lip curled, "is strange at best."

Stephanie seethed.

* * *

"Oh my God, George is the dumbest person ever."

"Not all my students can be bright."

Stephanie smiled at him. "Like me?"

"No."

"Grade your own papers."


	28. Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Hops on the bandwagon ]
> 
> _Zombies_

Three weeks later, she breaks down, crying. She covers her mouth with her hand, because someone—some _thing_ might hear them. Something. Some thing. She covers her mouth with her hand and leans against the wall, and they need to get to a defendable position, but she sinks down to the ground.

Skulduggery looks at her like she grew a third head. He cocks his head, crouches down to her level, reaches out a hesitant hand.

"I fucking dropped it."

The hand retracts. "Sorry?"

"The ice cream cone," Valkyrie whispers, wiping away tears with a hasty hand. "I fucking dropped the last ice cream cone ever! I dropped it!" She covers her mouth again for a second. "I dropped it."

"I'm sure the cone didn't mind."

" _I_ minded!"

"Valkyrie…" He trails off, lost, and she knows he is looking at her, observing her, gears turning, trying to figure out what to say.

"I'm fine," she says instead, standing, still wiping her face still. "I'm fine, let's go. It's almost dark, and we still have to raid the grocery store." When he doesn't follow, "I'm fine, Skulduggery."

He nods, stands, follows.

* * *

Skulduggery stops, looks around the street. Valkyrie blinks, comes back to herself, tightens her grip on the stick. She relaxes when she sees Skulduggery's shoulders, the angle of his head, and she follows his gaze.

"Oh."

She looks at him, replaces the stick on her shoulder. "Oh? What does  _oh_  mean?"

"Oh means the Bentley is gone."

Valkyrie makes a face, begins to grin. "Gone?"

"I fear it might have been stolen."

Valkyrie waits for the punchline. Her eyebrows twitch downwards, and she begins to look around the street. She recognizes the hardware store, the pile of wood that was once a farm stand, the burnt-out car smashed into the streetlamp.

And a cold terror drips down her spine.

"They hotwired it?" Valkyrie looks around, suddenly feeling very exposed in the middle of the street. She feels like she's a thousand miles away from home, in the middle of a town she doesn't know the name of—doesn't want to.

"No. No, they didn't hotwire it."

Valkyrie turns to look at him, slowly, slowly. "Did you leave the keys inside?"

Skulduggery pushes his hat higher up his forehead, puts his hands on his hips. She sees his shoulders start to hunch, see his jaw clench, his gaze fall to the ground. "In my defense, I figured luxurious car would not be a priority in a zombie apocalypse."

* * *

They're everywhere. They clog the streets, an unmoving mass of rotting limbs, swaying in the breeze like some demented forest. The ships in the distance—the ones that didn't escape without someone infected—mark the shore of the beach.

Valkyrie stands with Skulduggery, on the edge of the city, and a part of her wants to curl up on the ground. Another, stronger part wants to attack them, slam into the crowd, rip them apart, and she flexes her fingers.

"Necromancy," Valkyrie says.

Skulduggery looks at her. "A most foul magic."

"No, I mean, I could take them out if I still had my necromancy ring. God, I could take them all out." Valkyrie considers it. "Or a monster truck. We could just mow them all down. Even the Bentley—didn't we do that? We ran over  _someone_."

"I would never lower myself to using the Bentley as a battering ram."

"But we ran over someone." Something catches in Valkyrie's throat, and it takes her a minute to continue. "Something, I guess." They lapse into silence, and Valkyrie wants to redo the conversation. "I'm coming."

His head snaps to her. "Valkyrie, I would—"

"They're my family, Skulduggery. I'm coming. And I mean," Valkyrie gives him a look, a smile, "No one's exactly going to point if we fly over. Come on."

And it still smells like home.

They float through her old bedroom window, and it brings tears to her eyes that she wipes away. He follows behind her, hands in his pockets, head scanning the surroundings. Valkyrie focuses on the creaks—the old, familiar creaks—of the house, for the sound footsteps would make on the stairs.

Everything's a mess. Clothes trail down the hallway, and Valkyrie notices the pictures taken from frames, and something about it lets her breathe a little easier. The car isn't in the garage, and after checking around corners, Valkyrie sees the pantry raided.

"They got out," she sighs, sinks into the kitchen chair.

Skulduggery's gaze keeps returning to the window.

Valkyrie laughs. "They got out. Thank God."

* * *

Valkyrie's eyes snap open, and she jolts into Skulduggery's arms. Her holds her for a second, pulls away, holds a finger to his teeth. Something in Valkyrie freezes, cries out, and she nods, once, deadens that part of her, grabs her backpack and stick.

They had been given a room upstairs, and Skulduggery eases open the window. Valkyrie grabs his wrist, points at the floor. Points to where they both knew most people slept, around the fireplace.

Skulduggery doesn't move.

For a moment, Valkyrie thinks he's going to disagree.

But he doesn't, and they slink towards the door, ease it open. They move as one down the hall, checking the rooms as they went. Most are empty. Some already had the windows open. Valkyrie focuses on her breathing, not the noises.

They just reach the stairs when Haley comes stumbling up. Valkyrie goes to help her, support her weight, but Skulduggery grips her and drags her back, gun level with Haley's head.

"Please!" she screams, falling to her knees, crawling towards them. "It's just my arm and my leg!"

Skulduggery leads Valkyrie back, gun unwavering. "You don't that doesn't work. You're going to die and come back, and you're going to try and eat my partner."

"No, no, no," Haley moans, following after them on all fours. "I'm not, please, Valkyrie, you know I wouldn't. You  _know_  me. Cut my foot off. Please.  _Please_. I'm different. Mages are affected differently."

"It's a different strain, Haley," is all Valkyrie can choke out.

" _No_!" She falls to the ground, heaves shuddering breaths. "No, no, no, please, I want to live. I don't want to—"

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie whispers.

The gun goes off—once, twice.

They leave through the window. Valkyrie jams the door shut, and Skulduggery starts a fire. It leaks around the base of the building, climbing higher, and there are screams from the inside.

They sit there in the early morning. The dew soaks through Valkyrie's pants. They sit and watch until there are only embers, charred bones, and they would have joked about it. She almost wanted to, but her throat was dry and she was so, so tired.

So they sit there until Skulduggery touches her shoulder. And then they stand and walk away.

* * *

Valkyrie doesn't believe it at first, and when they find out it's a group of mages, she whoops and spends the entire evening comparing stories. They sit around the fireplace, under a blanket, the first tea she's had in months in her hands.

"I swear!" An elemental named Haley Tallow laughs. "A zombie troll! It was disgusting. It like, was hunched over this raccoon, and the whole thing felt like it was some really bad B-movie."

Valkyrie half-listens, leaning against Skulduggery. For the first time in years, it's like people don't even know who they are. She supposes it doesn't matter anymore.

* * *

Valkyrie lets her mind go blank.

"They might have switched cars."

Skulduggery looks through the cracked windshield.

Her throat is tight. "Say they switched cars."

She looks at him, and it's harder to keep the thoughts away, wiggling through her defenses, at the blood on the seat, at the luggage still in the back of the car, the blood, the blood, the crashed car. Cut themselves on the glass.

" _Skulduggery_."

"Of course."

"Don't say it like that," she hisses, faces him, the car burning into her side like a fire. "Don't say it like you're  _pitying_  me. Don't you dare."

He meets her eyes. "I'm not pitying you."

And she knows that's true, but she still wants to fight, to scream at him. Underneath, she feels guilt, a small voice telling her she was acting like a child, and she was being immature, that she was ignoring facts.

But God  _damn_  it.

"They're not one of them. They can't be. We warned them. But you don't think they can make it, do you? You think they're just some weak mortals, and they can't deal with it—with this. You don't know them like I do. You think—"

"Valkyrie," he says, so softly it makes her want to cry.

"You think they died. You think they're dead. You thought that from the beginning! You didn't even give them a  _chance_!" Valkyrie steps closer, chest heaving, words tumbling, tumbling in her head and still the car. "That's why you kept me in that stupid safehouse!  _That's why you didn't tell me about it until it was too late_!"

She doesn't realize she grabbed his suit until her eyes focus on her hands. They look very strange, gripping the fabric, like they aren't her hands. She relaxes her fingers, but still holds on, still searches his skull for something.

"You think they're dead," she whispers. "I could have saved them."

Skulduggery rests his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't think they were weak. We warned them, they did what you would have wanted them to do. They were headed toward the country."

And Valkyrie breaks and hugs him.

* * *

Valkyrie lies in the back seat, Skulduggery driving. The ceiling of the car is all Valkyrie has looked at the past few days. When she closes her eyes, she sees the daycare, the family hanging from the oak tree, the church.

The Bentley lurches.

"Sorry."

Valkyrie stretches one leg, toe poking Skulduggery in the back of the head. "I want a milkshake. I think that's what I'm missing most."

Skulduggery laughs. "Not society? Perhaps the internet?"

"Nope. I just miss food. I miss calling for a pizza, or like, opening the pantry and looking through the boxes and not liking anything. Fruit. I miss fruit. But more than anything, I miss milkshakes." Valkyrie closes her eyes. Opens them. "I would kill for a milkshake."

"I'll get you a milkshake."

"You couldn't make a milkshake. You don't understand the nuances behind it. I like them thick."

Skulduggery glances back her. "Thick?"

Valkyrie smiles at him. "Yeah. Like, with a bunch of ice cream in them. Where you almost need a spoon to eat them. Thick."

"You disgust me."

She laughs.

* * *

"Shit!" Valkyrie snarls, slamming her palm into the zombie's temple.

She shakes out her arm, flexes her fingers. They bite  _hard_ , and a small part of her shrieks to check for teeth marks, even though she knows that her coat doesn't have any holes, that she's safe. She slams her stick into the head, and the body crumples.

The ice cream is smashed on the ground, and she slams her stick into the next head, and she spits the gore out of her mouth. She had managed to keep a hold of the cone for the fight, but now she was slipping on the puddle as it melted.

They had ambushed them, blocked all the exits. Valkyrie had just wanted a milkshake.

Skulduggery was fighting his way towards her, and there was a fire spreading from corpse to corpse. The smell of burning flesh made Valkyrie's stomach turn. Skulduggery looks over the sea of heads.

"Are you okay?" he asks, fast.

"I dropped my ice cream!" she yells back, energy crackling the chests of those zombies near her.

It takes an age, and by the time they're fighting back to back, Valkyrie's arms are sore and she's taking in huge gulps of air. It's been a while since she's had to fight, and there's something savagely pleasant in putting everything she has into bashing heads.

And then there was a gap, and before Valkyrie can even think, her stick in slamming on top of child's head. He crumples, shirt covered in blood, and Valkyrie is reminded violently of Alice running to hug her, when she was still waist height. Alice, Valkyrie slamming her weapon into her skull, Alice trampled by a hoard behind.

Suddenly, every face reminds her of her parents, of Alice, of Tanith, China—and it's all Valkyrie can do to beat them back, screams rattling in her throat, screams she refuses to let escape.

Skulduggery grabs her, and then they're in the air, flying.

It feels fake. In the air, it was like they had always been flying. Like they had just been watching a movie, something that made Valkyrie lean forward, engrossed in the gore.

_Like some really bad B-movie._

They land a few kilometers away, and Skulduggery runs his hands over Valkyrie's arms, checking for bites. Like it would matter if he found any. She lets him, closes her eyes, enjoys the leather against her hot skin.


	29. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine how limited her job options would be in this economy?

Valkyrie pulled at the hem of her professional skirt and hated everything. It was cold in this building, and she wanted to wrap her arms around herself and complain. But, of course, she sat, legs crossed, and let herself be examined by Bernie.

Bernie was the general manager. Valkyrie had no idea what that meant. Was there a specific manager? For specific things? Was there Frankie, the vending machine manager? Tina, the copy-machine manager?

She just didn't know.

"So, Valerie…"

Valkyrie looked up, offered a half-hearted smile. Bernie, the  _general_  manager, didn't return it. Valkyrie wished she had gotten Frankie.

"Bernie," Valkyrie responded when he didn't offer up any more conversation.

Bernie placed her resumé on the table, slid it back and forth with his index finger. Valkyrie's smile became strained. Obviously she was supposed to say something, but she hadn't a clue what the hell he wanted.

"It's pretty chilly in here, isn't it?"

Bernie frowned. "Sorry?"

Wrong thing. "Well, I mean," Valkyrie pinched the fabric of her professional white blouse. "This is a really thin shirt."

"I'm not sure what this has to do with your resumé."

Valkyrie nodded. "Yeah."

Bernie waited another second. "You… You do realize this is an accounting firm, correct?"

Valkyrie nodded again. "I do."

Bernie looked pained. "Valerie, how much experiencing in accounting do you have?"

"A fair amount. I mean, I'm not your CFO, or anything, but I can juggle—" She fumbled, for just a moment. "—Juggle accounts decently."

Bernie steepled his fingers, took a deep breath. "You don't appear to have any schooling past secondary."

Valkyrie leaned forward, caught sight of her resumé. She stood. "Hold on, I just—I just really need to pee. Where's the bathroom?"

Bernie told her, and Valkyrie walked quickly out of the office. She wasn't used to high heels, and her foot wobbled and she fell into a man carrying a stack of papers. They nearly scattered out of his arms, but Valkyrie pressed them into his chest, and they regained balance.

"Sorry," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

As soon as she in the bathroom, she locked the door and whipped out her phone.

"Any luck?"

"Skulduggery, what the fuck?!"

"Ah. I assume your credentials came into question—"

" _What the hell_!" Valkyrie covered her mouth with her hand, cast a quick glance at the door. "Seriously," she hissed, "why would you do this?"

There was static, like a hand covering the receiver, and Valkyrie gaped.

"Are you  _laughing_  right now?"

"No, I'm just…" He broke down into chuckles again.

"I hate you. I hate you so much."

"In my defense, you said to keep your resumé as close to fact as possible; you  _haven't_  had any schooling past secondary. And you probably don't know the first thing about accounting."

"I challenge that."

"What's the difference between crediting and debiting an account?"

Valkyrie bit her lip. Someone knocked against the bathroom door, and she heard confused mutters through the wood.

"By credit, do you mean like, the cards, or…?"

Skulduggery laughed, and Valkyrie hung up on him. She unlocked the door, shot an awkward smile at the few women gathered around, pushed by them. She adjusted her skirt, shoved her phone back into her bra as she entered Bernie's room. Office.

"Sorry." Valkyrie smoothed out her skirt. "So, I know that I might not be educated enough for this job, but do you think you can make an exception?" She smiled. "Please."

"I'm sorry, but—"

"No, you don't understand, it's my boyfriend."

Bernie raised an eyebrow. "Your boyfriend?"

Valkyrie nodded. "He's really stupid."

"I'm not sure what that has—"

"He's really,  _really_  stupid. He can't find a job. It's sad."

"I…" Bernie scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, what does this have to do with anything?"

Valkyrie leaned forward. "You don't understand how stupid he is."


	30. Riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lord Vile will return to destroy us all.”  
>  “In that case,” High Priest Tenebrae said with a patient smile, “we need to make sure Valkyrie Cain is strong enough to kill him for us, don’t we?”
> 
> -Dark Days
> 
> Valkyrie is the death bringer. Unlike Melancholia, her power is consistent and strong. But she's still reluctant about leaving Skulduggery.  
> Until Tenebrae lets her in on a little secret.
> 
> Angst. I want it. But the ending is up to you- make it as sad or as happy as you want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is maybe definitely from the [Skulduggery Pleasant kinkmeme](https://skeletondetectivekinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1787.html?thread=16635).
> 
> Shoutout to [bubblemoon66](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblemoon66/pseuds/bubblemoon66) for the Beta!

_Please, just stop talking_ …

* * *

"Dead?" Valkyrie took a sip of her water bottle. "Do they know what happened?"

Solomon watched her, head tilted, waiting patiently to resume their lesson. He always waited for her, and sometimes she wished he would kick her chair out from underneath her and tease her. But he just shrugged.

"Craven has been mumbling something about surges and experiments. Understandably, the Temple is not amused." He shrugged again. "It's a sorry thing. I'm looking into it. Did you know her?"

Valkyrie stood and stretched, shook out her ring hand. "Yeah. Sort of. She was annoying and prissy and thought she was, like, the best thing in the entire world because she respected Tenebrae."

"I'll look into it. Ready?"

Valkyrie curled the shadows around her fist. "Were you  _not_  going to look into it?"

Solomon flicked his cane, and a wave of darkness crashed toward Valkyrie. She cut through it with her own slice of shadow, following through to make sure the shadows didn't sneak around to trip her up. He did that, sometimes.

* * *

Valkyrie landed on her back, and the breath  _whoosh_ ed out of her. She struggled to recover, arching her back and sucking in a gulp of air. She pushed the air, skidded away from Skulduggery to give herself time and room.

"You're distracted," he commented.

Valkyrie rolled neatly onto her knees, struggled up, circled Skulduggery.

"Fight me."

"I am."

He stepped forward, threw a punch she dodged, ducked under his arm and slammed against him. He was so smooth on his feet, and he easily adjusted, got her into a lock, arms pinned at her side.

"Were you with Wreath?" Skulduggery asked, too casual for what he was really asking.

Valkyrie caught her breath, and he set her back on the ground. She stretched out, wincing when a stitch in her side twinged. She didn't answer, rolled her hands, shook them out. Skulduggery watched her, and she threw her hands in the air.

"Yes, yes, I was with Wreath. I forgot to text you. Did I miss anything interesting?"

"That depends if you think blackmailing is interesting."

Valkyrie hesitated. "I do."

"Too bad."

She scowled. "Oh, tell me! Who's blackmailing who?" She pulled on her sweatshirt, the chill of the outside getting to her. At least in the Temple, they had a whole training room to themselves.

Not that it mattered.

"Skulduggery…"

He shrugged. "I feel as though our dear friend China is hiding something from us. I'm not sure  _what_ , but she's hiding something. Some of her informants have defected, and they're all tight-lipped when questioned about the reason. We're going to figure out why."

Valkyrie snapped her fingers, warmed her hands with the flame. "Sort of feels dirty. I mean, she's good now, isn't she? She's a friend?"

"Well, the nature of blackmail is to force someone to do something they don't particularly want to do. Which is why we are here to figure out who is blackmailing her and kindly ask them to stop."

"'Kindly?'"

"Relatively speaking. You look cold."

Valkyrie held the flame close to her nose. It was numb. "I am cold. It's cold out. Why are we training outside?"

"To enjoy the scenery."

"We're in your backyard."

Skulduggery spread his hands. "Enjoy."

She laughed.

* * *

"So," Solomon began.

Valkyrie looked up sharply. "Oh, no."

"How do you know what I'm going to say is bad?"

Valkyrie's head lolled back, and she got a lovely view of the Temple's ceiling. It was damp. And cold. And not very aesthetically pleasing. She sank down lower on the bench and looked back at him.

"You only use that tone when we're going to talk about the off-limit topic." She watched him smile and adjust his grip on his cane. "Yep, see, here we go."

"Valkyrie, we both know you're approaching your surge—"

"Wow, it's almost like everyone I know  _doesn't_  remind me of that little fact any time I use magic around them." Valkyrie took a breath. "Well, you might as well. I'll add it to the list."

Solomon tried a quick smile. "You're one of the most powerful Necromancers I've ever seen. It would be a shame if you picked Elemental over—"

"Skulduggery doesn't talk to me about it."

Solomon's mouth snapped shut.

Valkyrie suddenly wished they were training again. It was almost painful to sit here, ring burning cold fire on her hand, and be judged. She let out a sigh and sat straighter, stretching her fingers. She was about to apologize, but—

"You could save the world, Valkyrie."

"I already have. A couple of times." She stood. "I have an impressive resumé."

He shook his head, took a quick step forward, and she almost thought he was going to grab her shoulders and shake her. She wasn't sure if she would have shrugged him off, but he stopped, feet from her.

"You could bring this world into a new age! You wouldn't  _have_  to save the world from anyone. As the Death Bringer—"

"Solomon—"

" _As the Death Bringer_ , you wouldn't have to save anyone. You would bring around a realm of peace, an age of prosperity. No wars, no death, no dark gods. That would all be you, Valkyrie. This power?"

Solomon sent a shadow whipping at the bench behind Valkyrie, so close she could feel the air shift around her. She didn't have to look to know the bench was in pieces.

"You could use it for  _good_."

Solomon took a step back from her, looking away, gripping his cane. It was suddenly very quiet, and she couldn't stop the thought that she wasn't sure came from  _her_  mind or—

_Well, that sounds much better than destroying everything, doesn't it?_

* * *

"I need you here," Skulduggery murmured, the Bentley sliding to a neat stop.

Valkyrie looked over. "I  _am_  here."

"No, you're not. You've been distracted lately. I haven't mentioned it because it hasn't particularly affected your work, but I'm mentioning it now." He shut off the car and looked at her, tilted his head down. "I need you focused."

"I am," Valkyrie said, sharply. Because she was lying. The silence built in the car, and she let out a sharp sigh. "Okay, fine, maybe I have been distracted, just a little bit. Wreath is investigating something at the Temple, and I'm helping, and I was trying to figure something out."

"Did you figure it out?"

"No," Valkyrie said. "I didn't."

"I could help you. You didn't tell me you were investigating something with Wreath. You don't have to let me help, but now it makes sense." Something about his posture made Valkyrie want to make a joke, push on. She wasn't fast enough. "You can tell me these things, you know."

Valkyrie's eyes slid to the cup holder. "I know."

"I won't judge you."

She didn't answer.

"Valkyrie…?"

"Whenever I talk about him, you get weird." She looked up quickly. "I know you don't like him, and I'm not asking you to like him. But I feel like—like you would see what he said as being bias. And it's just…"

"I was being unfair," Skulduggery said quickly.

"Look, I just want to get to the bottom of this whole China thing. Let's not talk about Solomon."

Skulduggery looked at her slowly. Valkyrie felt like she had said something wrong, and she fumbled over the conversation in her head, trying to figure out what she had let slip.

"What?"

"Nothing—"

* * *

She hadn't come dressed for a meeting with Tenebrae. She was in her workout clothes, sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Not even a tank top underneath, just a training bra. Valkyrie counted the holes as they walked through the Temple.

She wondered why it mattered and stopped.

"I'm guessing this isn't going to be a good meeting," she said lightly, looking over at Solomon.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one, you're not your usual chatty self. You're acting like someone just chopped off one of your hands, and you're trying to act brave about it." Valkyrie nodded to the Necromancers she recognized, those who kept their hoods down. "Let me guess: He's kicking me out of the temple?"

Solomon's jaw clenched. "No."

"He's going to scold me for smiling too much? For talking too loud? For yelling that Craven is a murderer? For knocking over that priceless artifact? For knocking over that  _other_  priceless artifact?"

Solomon didn't even look at her.

"What, is he going to kill me?" Valkyrie meant it as a joke, but somewhere, she wondered if he would let that happen. Skulduggery. If Solomon would. "Solomon?"

He stopped jerkily in front of Tenebrae's door, opened it. Valkyrie's heart sank.

* * *

Valkyrie didn't want to do this outside of the Temple, outside in front of the cameras she knew was hidden behind the graves, over other skeletons. So she marched down the sidewalk, teeth chattering, hands shoved in her pockets.

She didn't stop when the Bentley pulled up next to her.

She didn't stop when Skulduggery got out after her.

"Valkyrie?"

She choked around a sob, and in a moment Skulduggery was at her side, touching her elbow. He was cold, cold like the air, and she could feel the leather of his gloves through her sweatshirt. She ripped away from him violently, turning towards him.

It was her night off. It was dark, and the air felt wet even as she moved through it. She wanted it to rain, so the tears dripping down her cheeks looked like rain. So the thunder might drown out how broken she sounded. How broken she looked.

"Don't."

Skulduggery swayed in the wind. "Valkyrie, is everything all right?"

"No. No. Tell me it isn't true." Her knees threatened to give out from under her.

He was so still. Only his jaw moved. "I don't know what you're talking about."

" _Yes you do_!" Valkyrie must have shrieked, but she didn't hear it. Just her throat hurt, like she had swallowed broken shards of glass.

His head lowered, face in shadow. Like it would have mattered.

Valkyrie didn't think she would be able to say the name, but of course—

"Lord Vile."

Skulduggery's shoulders dipped. That was all Valkyrie needed.

* * *

She ran back in the rain, to the Temple, and she fell into Solomon's arms and sobbed.

And he gave her a warm drink and set her up in a room.

She lay on her bed, facing the wall, curled up.


	31. Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy early Halloween! :D I was originally gonna' post this closer to the big day, but eh, I'm excited.**
> 
> **From anonymous request:**
> 
> **"** ANYWAY, i am a huuuggee Valduggery shipper XD maybe you could write a fic set in like, idk a Halloween party or something? I KNOW you are super busy, but like Halloweens comin' up and IDK, you write it so well! k just luv you. BYE **"**
> 
> **THERE IS PORN. THERE IS PORN AFTER THE PAGE BREAK DO NOT READ AFTER THAT POINT IF YOU DON'T LIKE, YO.**

"Are you done?"

Valkyrie scowled at the mirror. "No. Just like I wasn't done when you asked me five minutes ago. I still have to do makeup."

"Makeup?"

Valkyrie heaved a sigh and opened the door. She gestured down at herself, smiling, twirling. She thought it was pretty good, having put it together from Alice's wardrobe in fifteen minutes.

Skulduggery tilted his head. "Oh."

"Oh? That's all you can say?"

Skulduggery took another second to observe her. "You're wearing a tutu."

"Wow."

"And tights," he tried.

" _Wow_. I'm a cat."

"What part of that costume is supposed to be a cat?"

Valkyrie groaned. "Look, I'm a cat, okay? Black Uggs, black tights, black tutu, black tanktop…" She turned, showed him the scarf stuffed in the back of the tutu. "Tail. I couldn't find ears, but…"

She took out the eyeliner and returned to the mirror.

"Valkyrie?"

"Mm?"

"That's eyeliner."

"Yes."

"You're… You're putting it on your face."

She faced him. "Whiskers and a nose." She crinkled her nose, crossing her eyes to see the black, just out of sight. "Cute, right?"

"Well," Skulduggery said, "you're certainly wearing it."

Valkyrie laughed. "All right, well, what's your costume, then?"

"I'm wearing it."

Valkyrie noticed the suit for the first time. Skulduggery's pants were pulled up to his ribs, and the legs ballooned and bagged and tightened back at the ankles. He wore an oversized jacket, and a wide-brimmed hat. There was a pocket watch. There was an oversized tie. There were padded shoulders. It was light pink.

She burst out laughing. "Oh my God. Your costume is a parody of yourself?"

Skulduggery's head jerked back. "Excuse me?"

Valkyrie's grin faltered. "Oh. Oh, is that not it?"

"It's a zoot suit."

"A suit suit?"

"A  _zoot_  suit. They were popular during the 1940s in America." Skulduggery adjusted his lapels. "My costume has a historical context."

"As does mine. Cats are really historical. Especially black cats. Did you know people still kill black cats in America because they think they're bad luck?" Valkyrie returned to the mirror, tapped the eyeliner, testing how smudge-proof it was. "It's awful."

"And yet, you can't remember how to do long division in your head."

"Whatever."

Skulduggery checked the time on his watch. "We're going to be late."

"Shit." Her finger slipped, and she smudged the makeup. " _Shit_."

Valkyrie practically bounced in the Bentley. She kept checking her makeup, adjusting her tutu, looking over and grinning at Skulduggery.

"We've never been to a Halloween party."

"I'm surprised we were even invited. You're chaotic when you drink."

They were driving down a wooded road, and Valkyrie kept peering out into the dark, hoping to catch sight of the house they were driving to. She saw a distant light and grinned again.

Her smile slowly faded.

The house was huge. There was a staircase leading up to giant glass doors, and there were little shrubs everywhere with orange fairy lights. The whole façade of the building was lit up, and the reliefs cast deep shadows. There was a chauffeur, who watched them drive by with confusion. The house's lawn was like a gold course in the back.

Skulduggery shut off the car. "Seems like it's going to be a good party."

"Uh."

Skulduggery opened her door and took her arm, and Valkyrie felt a little stupid. She smiled at the chauffeur as they ascended the stairs.

And then they walked into a time-traveler's convention.

Valkyrie gripped Skulduggery's elbow, stopping him.

"I thought you said this was a costume party," she hissed.

Skulduggery looked around. "It is."

There were dresses everywhere—long, floor-length dresses, trailing trains. There was a woman resembling Queen Elizabeth, face white and hair red and curled. Another woman had a Roman shawl wrapped around her, and a few of her friends were dressed as slaves.

There were a thousand different dresses in thousands of different cuts. Corsets and fanciful hair twisted up into bows and arcs of pearls. Eyes painted with gold, women in warrior shawls, swords, huge dresses.

And the men—suits of armor, authentic battle-gear, priest gear, a Pope. Swords and spears, escorting the queens and the Egyptian goddesses. Battle flags and drummer boys and chainmail.

In between them, waiters in simple black swerved through the crowd. There were no overhead lights, and there were people in the crowd carrying lanterns, allowing the room to sink into darkness.

Valkyrie gaped.

"I am so underdressed."

"Nonsense!" Skulduggery chirped. "You fit right in. I'm sure there's another cat somewhere in here."

"I thought this was going to be a small thing. Oh my God, everyone is here." Valkyrie closed her eyes. "I want to go home. I want to go home and eat sweets."

"You're the one who made me drive all the way out here."

"You're the one who texted me and said we were going in the first place!"

Skulduggery pulled her into the crowd. "We might as well make an appearance."

"You just want to show off your costume," Valkyrie grumbled.

"Valkyrie, have you ever seen quite a fanciful costume? Sure, it doesn't have the same appeal as, say, a suit of armor, but I think it has its perks. It's subtle, for one. Only those who are truly bright will catch the reference."

Valkyrie bumped into a courtesan and apologized.

"And it's modest. Sure, I could have sprung for the armor. But this?" Skulduggery faced Valkyrie, taking one of her hands so she wouldn't get lost in the crowd. "This is a magnificent thing. The fashion from another age."

"I need a drink."

Skulduggery laughed, and a drink appeared in his hand. He handed it to her, and she took a sip. She felt the alcohol burn as it went down, and she coughed a little. Skulduggery continued to lead her. Suddenly they were in a less crowded part, somewhere behind a support column near the wall, in the semi-dark.

Valkyrie sipped on her drink and leaned out, watching the people pass. Skulduggery moved closer, told her the time periods the various customs.

"That looks to be about 1870s. You can tell because of how it flares out like that, an adaption of something from the 1700s, where the hips jutted out. Women used to be swept up by gusts of wind and carried out to sea, where they would promptly drown."

Valkyrie laughed.

"That woman, there, obviously Roman. She wears all that jewelry to signal that she's engaged. Probably to—that man, there, with the purple robes. Roman senator. Although…" Skulduggery leaned closer to her, to get a better look. "He seems to be flirting with that 1700s peasant."

Another drink appeared in Valkyrie's hand. Her other hand played lazily with Skulduggery's tie.

"You think she could do better?"

"No, not really. See, that's—" Someone laughed loudly next to them and moved away. "—She's one of France's upcoming politicians. I would assume she's using this opportunity to—another drink? Maybe you shouldn't—all right, then."

Valkyrie pointed. "What about her?"

Skulduggery followed her finger, rested a forearm against the column. "A popular fashion trend was to tie your hair with ribbon and twine. Used to catch fire when they would walk by candles."

"Maybe she'll trip and one of the—one of the lanterns will set her on fire." Valkyrie laughed.

Skulduggery slowly looked at her. "You're drunk."

Valkyrie shrugged. "You're wearing shoulder pads."

* * *

Her makeup had smudged. Valkyrie dimly remembered she had left her eyeliner back in the Bentley, and she wondered if anyone would notice her sneak out of the party to go and get it, then return to the bathroom to fix it.

Skulduggery kissed along her neck, and Valkyrie made a noise she was barely aware of. She hadn't caught sight of the façade, but she could see in the mirror that his hair was dark and her hands were twisting though it. They were playing classical music. They should be playing something spooky.

Skulduggery's hand slipped from her breast to her ass, slipped underneath the tutu.

"Stupid tail," he murmured into her neck, and his other hand wrenched the scarf away.

"That's Alice's. Don't rip it."

"I gently threw it to the side. I highly doubt I even came  _close_  to ripping it. These tights are really skin-tight."

Valkyrie arched her back away from the wall, allowed him to slide a hand underneath the waistband, tug the thin fabric down. He jerked at the last second and Valkyrie adjusted her grip around his shoulders.

"I might have ripped those."

"Mm," Valkyrie agreed.

Skulduggery peeled them away from her legs, but the tights only got as far as her knees before Skulduggery was running his hand along the back of her thigh. Valkyrie raised her leg willingly, and Skulduggery supported her weight. Valkyrie was left on the tiptoes of one foot, Skulduggery's hand slipping under her shirt.

He rolled one nipple gently between his fingers, and she let out a moan.

"No underwear?"

"No, it leaves lines."

"Lines?"

Skulduggery's hand ghosted over her stomach, then wrapped around her back and pulled her closer, allowed him to crash his lips into hers. Their teeth clacked together, but Valkyrie didn't mind.

"Underwear lines," she said against his lips.

"Oh. I don't think I've ever thought of that."

His hand slid around back to her front, and she felt the tips of his phalanges. She let out a little moan, felt herself get wet in anticipation. Skulduggery laughed, switched back to her neck, peppered kisses.

"I like the tutu," he muttered.

"Oh, that's creepy. Why didn't you take it off?"

Two fingers were against her now, circling her clit. Valkyrie inhaled sharply whenever it hit her  _just_  right. Her head bumped against the wall, against the nice wallpaper in the nice house with the fancy Halloween party going on. Still with the classical music.

"What?" she panted.

"I said, I think the tutu adds to your charm."

"I'm always charming— _ah_."

Skulduggery laughed, switched sides of her neck, and she caught sight of green eyes. His fingers were going faster now, and she was more than ready, but he just kept laughing against her neck as she gripped the suit coat, dug her fingers into his ribs, shoulders.

_Scapula_ , she remembered.

"Valkyrie," he murmured, "I could have a better conversation with my reflection."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he chose this time to slip two fingers into her. Her hips bucked and she let out a gasp. He pressed against her, and she didn't have enough room to move with him, and she let out a little growl when he continued his slow pace.

"The party doesn't end until late, Valkyrie."

And she was pinned for a moment, nothing but slow friction, Skulduggery's dark murmuring in her ear. Valkyrie pushed against the wall with her back, trying to get him to go faster, anything.

Finally, mercifully, he sped up, and Valkyrie sucked in a breath.

Someone knocked on the door, and Skulduggery froze.

"Someone's in here," he called over his shoulder, and Valkyrie caught a look at the straight nose of the façade. "Be out in…" He looked at her. "How long would you say?"

Valkyrie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. "Uhh…"

"As always, the definition of eloquence."

He resumed his movement, and this time she was allowed to rock with him. Each time they met in the middle, her eyes fluttered shut. She could feel her muscles tightening with each thrust, feel the pleasant warmth radiating.

And the world becomes Skulduggery, his fingers digging into her thigh, his fingers, his teeth, façade gone, digging into her neck. And she comes, grips him, hisses between her teeth and everything narrows, relaxes in his arms.

He waited a few seconds before her removed his fingers from her, set her back on her feet. She held on, worried her legs might not support her, and she let herself slide to the floor. Skulduggery looked down at her for a second, sat across from her, leaned against the sink.

"Happy Halloween," she said. Grinned.

"I'm atheist."

"What?"

"It was originally a Pagan holiday."

Valkyrie frowned. "Oh. Crap, did we leave a bucket of sweets outside your house?"


	32. Skeleton Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **From Tumblr user crabbiey:**
> 
> **"** I have a question. Is the leader of the Skeleton Army Skulduggery Pleasant? Is he even involved, or does he just feel relieved, that he's not the only antimated sentient skeleton? Does he try to figure out why the skeletons are also animated? What if all the skeletons are like Skulduggery Pleasant? Does Skulduggery teach them the runes that let you have a face, or does he just make them all wear suits, hats, sunglasses and thick scarves? **"**

Well, it was a big warehouse. Valkyrie could definitely see that someone could host an army here. There were no windows, and the building was made of a metal she imagined would be used in bunkers. There was a thick set of doors with a padlock.

Skulduggery practically bounced to the doors. Valkyrie followed behind slowly, looking around.

"So," she said.

Skulduggery took out a key and began to fiddle with the lock.

"An army."

"You say that like you're doubtful."

Valkyrie shrugged. "It's just that, you know, you're sort of a terrible leader."

The chain fell to the ground, and Skulduggery swung the doors open.

She blinked. "Uh."

"Damn," Skulduggery muttered. "Hey, you there," he shouted at the skeletons, "stop trying to rip his arm off!"

"There are only three of them."

"As of right now."

The three skeletons stood in the center of the building. They were all about the same height. While Skulduggery's bones were white and clean, these skeletons had dingy, yellow bones that seemed to glisten in the faint light.

They looked a little lost, almost sulking. The skeleton who had been having his arm ripped off sat on the ground. The second skeleton wandered away. The third one swayed slightly, standing in place.

"So, what, you just…  _found_  them?"

Skulduggery nodded.

"On the side of the road?"

"Yes."

"And you just… took them here? To your warehouse?"

Skulduggery crossed his arms and observed his army. "I borrowed a van, brought them here."

Valkyrie squinted. "Is that one wearing a scarf?"

"Yes."

Valkyrie looked at him. "Why?"

"To be a part of  _my_  army, Valkyrie dear, you need to have an impeccable eye for fashion. It's the primary reason you weren't invited."

The skeleton sitting down decided to lie on the ground.

"Your fashion sense is wearing a scarf and being otherwise totally nude?"

Skulduggery's gaze shifted to his feet.

"Skulduggery?"

"They… My army took a vote."

"And the conclusion was…?"

"That they didn't want to wear any clothes." He pointed at the skeleton swaying. "Barney, there, likes the scarf. But Henry and Clyde ripped off everything and tried to attack each another with their shoes."

"Which one is Clyde?"

"That one, I think."

"You  _think_?"

Skulduggery's shoulders sagged. "Please don't make fun of me."

Valkyrie looked at him and proceeded to laugh right in his face. "This," she gasped, " _this_  is your army?" She hugged her stomach, tried to control herself, failed. "Skulduggery—" She broke down again, her laughs filling the warehouse.

"Yes," he said, grumpy, "I know."

"No, no, you don't." Valkyrie wiped drool from her chin, grinned at him. "You were being so  _cryptic_  about your  _spooky Skeleton Army_. And I find out that it's literally three naked skeletons with the combined mental capacity of a two year old."

The third skeleton—probably Henry—began to attack the wall of the warehouse. Clyde jolted up from the ground, staggered up, joined Henry in the attack.

"I might have misused the word  _army_."

"I was picturing a hoard. I was picturing, like, skeleton horses and bone javelins and I get a scarf." Her cheeks were hurting from smiling.

Skulduggery didn't answer, but he pulled the doors shut and redid the chain. He stood, facing the doors for a long minute.

"We're going to take over the world," he said softly.

Valkyrie just laughed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone forgets he's a fuckin' nerdd.


	33. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes."

"You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes."

Valkyrie's vision swam back into focus. Skulduggery stood over her, and he had his phone in his hand. He must have made a call.

It took Valkyrie a moment to feel the cold that crept through her fingers. Her teeth chattered, and her head swam, and Skulduggery told her not to try and sit up. A mountain was on her chest, and she realized she was wet.

"I didn't faint," she said. Her voice sounded small, and something inside her twisted with each breath.

Skulduggery crouched down beside her, moved the hair from her face. She wondered when it came undone from the ponytail. She focused on breathing, even though it felt like it would have been easier to not. He stood back up.

"You did. Again. Valkyrie, I'm beginning to doubt your ability to handle situations like this. Frankly, I'm considering the idea of just locking you in a cage. Because I bring you to these fabulous places, and you get shot."

Valkyrie frowned, tried to look at herself again. "Shot?" she rasped. Something caught and she coughed. It sounded wet.

"Yes, shot. By my guess, the bullet slipped right through your ribs and into your lung. That pressure you feel? That's blood seeping into your lung. You're going to drown in it."

Valkyrie's mouth was dry. "Help me."

Skulduggery nodded. "I am. I'm talking to you, to keep your mind from the pain. I'm keeping you from panicking. I daresay I'm even amusing you at the same time. Do you remember what happened, or do I have to explain that, as well?"

Valkyrie struggled to focus her eyes past Skulduggery's form, but everything was fuzzy, and she coughed again. She was cold. She had never been this cold in her entire life, and she wanted to tell Skulduggery to set her on fire, just so she could feel something.

"You did something stupid," Skulduggery continued, and Valkyrie managed to look at him again. "We were on a case—do you remember? Fascinating little thing, that brought us to this jungle. Oh, I know you can't feel it, but you were complaining about the heat the entire time."

Crickets. Valkyrie heard them. The noise cut through Skulduggery's voice in sharp little jabs.

"You wanted to visit the town." Skulduggery loomed over her. "You said you would be out for a few hours."

Valkyrie took a deep breath, and her eyes watered when she felt her chest rattle. "I saw her."

Skulduggery nodded. "You did. You saw our target and followed her to the outskirts. You were just about to call me to let me know, and you were shot."

Valkyrie's eyes—vision swam again. "Help me."

"You were shot, and you managed to fight her off—but not before losing massive amounts of blood. You passed out, into my waiting arms, and the position you landed in just so happened to be conducive in fending off hypovolemic shock, and you woke back up."

The crickets, the cold. The world had faded to a dull buzz, and all Valkyrie could see was Skulduggery, the only solid thing in a world of shadow and heatwaves. She wanted to ask him to give her a drink of water.

"Help," she whispered. Barely.

Skulduggery stepped closer, his shoes right near her shoulder. "You didn't call me, Valkyrie."

"Help."

"I'm sorry, but I can't." He sounded so, so sad. "I mean, it was inevitable. I can't get shot and bleed out. You, on the other hand, my dear, are made of lesser stuff. Namely, flesh."

Skulduggery stepped on her chest, stood there. Valkyrie struggled to breathe.

"Close your eyes," he said, like he was suggesting an ice cream flavor. "Close your eyes and listen to my voice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have this space so things don't get spoiled.
> 
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> .
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> .
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> If you didn't understand: She was hallucinating him the entire time.


	34. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed."

"If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed."

Skulduggery looked at her. "Sorry?"

Tanith managed a smile. "Nothing."

The café was dingy and really pretty almost entirely awful. Tanith sank down in her seat, and she might have been pouting a little bit.

But why couldn't they have gone somewhere  _not_  terrible? She understood, of course, that maybe Val wasn't up for it. There was something about a bright, sunny café that could make you feel empty inside. Like you didn't belong, quite. She got that.

But hadn't Val spent enough time moping?

"Hasn't she spent enough time moping?"

Skulduggery gave her another look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Is that what you're  _not_  calling it?" Tanith wished a waiter would come up and ask them if they would like a coffee. A waiter didn't. "Just… why did she have to pick here? I mean, it's not like people aren't going to know her."

"She picked where she felt comfortable. It's not our place to judge where she wants to grab a coffee, of all things, Tanith."

She hated that. He talked down to her, a little bit. Then again, he talked down to most people.

She made a list in her head of the people he hadn't talked down to.

Valkyrie. Ghastly.

She felt a little triumphant she couldn't come up with more people. And then she felt a little sad, so she jiggled her foot and wondered when the last time someone had run a clean rag over this tabletop had been.

"If you're going to be like this—"

"Like what?" Tanith snapped. "Angry?"

It was bizarre seeing irritation flash across Skulduggery's face. The façade was bizarre. She thought it was creepy, not quite right. But it was nice to finally know what he was thinking.

"If you're not even going to attempt to understand why she left, then what was the point of even agreeing to see her?" Skulduggery was too used to having a blank skull, and Tanith could see as his eyes kept flicking to the door over her shoulder.

"I'm not angry she left. I'm angry she didn't even call. I'm angry the only one she told about it was  _you_. I'm angry the only one she called was  _you_. I'm angry she got to disappear off the face of the Earth, while—"

"While you were the  _only_  one being judged for actions you had no control over?" Skulduggery was looking over Tanith's shoulder. "You went away for a few years too, Tanith."

Tanith grit her teeth, wiggled in her seat, and she forced Skulduggery's eyes to meet hers. "She's my friend, too, Skulduggery."

"You're jealous?"

Tanith let out a little laugh. "No. No, I couldn't even touch  _you_ , Skulduggery. And I'm fine with that. But we could have helped each other. Talked it through. She could have told me, instead of me hearing it second-hand. She didn't have to run away and face it alone."

Skulduggery didn't answer.

Tanith reached up to pull a hand through her hair, came up with air. She had thought a haircut would be good. She had read that somewhere, or maybe someone had told her. Maybe it had come through in one of those little flashes of other Tanith's life.

Skulduggery's fingers tapped against the tabletop.

Tanith's leg jiggled, and she wished she hadn't left her sword in her car. She wished she hadn't sold her motorcycle. But it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It made her sad, so she had sold it. But now she missed it.

Maybe Valkyrie had bought a motorcycle. Not that Tanith knew.

"Well, she didn't face it alone," Tanith muttered. "She had you."

"Are you faulting me for that?"

"I'm guessing you didn't exactly encourage her to reach out to anyone else, did you? Fletcher thought she killed herself. She said she's going on a trip, and then she doesn't call for a month, and he asks her family, and they won't say a fucking word about it."

Skulduggery's mouth tugged up in a faint smile. "She would never kill herself."

Tanith wanted to punch him. "Maybe this isn't  _about_  her!"

"And it's about you?"

"It's about more than the two of you!" Tanith lowered her voice, feels the stares of the other patrons leave the woman with the short brown hair and the man with an unremarkable face. "I'm sure you don't understand."

Skulduggery tilted his head, eyebrow raised.

"She's never cut you out of anything. You've always known. Me? Fletch? Her  _family_? We've always been playing catch-up."

Skulduggery closed his eyes when he shrugged. "You haven't dealt with anything remotely close to what she's had to."

Tanith barked out another laugh, shook her head, crossed her arms.

A part of her—that part deep down, the part she ignores—aches.

Oh, no, she hasn't had to deal with a single thing like Valkyrie Cain has. Hasn't had to keep her head down and go on trial and deal with people  _whispering_. Hasn't had to run away and hate herself for something she had no control over.

Not as deep as Valkyrie.

"You know, you're a real—"

"Valkyrie," Skulduggery said, smiling.

Tanith turned.

And it's Val. A different Val. Not as strong, arms no longer powerhouses, not even in a suit. Just a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. A hesitant smile.

Tanith wished Skulduggery wasn't there when she jumped up and pulled Val into a hug.


	35. Inserts of the Sole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **skuldxggxry ( On Tumblr ) said:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **"** { SALSAS INTO YOUR ASKBOX HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED A READER X SKUL FANFIC OR???? WALTZES RJGHT BACK OUT } **"**

You were living quite the boring life. Perhaps, as the narrator, I shouldn't be so quick to assume things, but judging by the way you're scowling at your minimum wage job, I would assume you're imagining bigger and better things for yourself.

Anyways, more on to the topic, you were in the basement of your work. I'm not really sure what your job is, but let's pick something, for the sake of world-building. You're in the basement of your job, a seamstress of a nice suit factory. You're currently digging through a box of proto-suits, of which your boss has suddenly decided is actually now going to be made into a design for the upcoming fall fashion show.

In any manner, you're shoulder-deep in a box of dusty suits.

The basement is an abysmal thing. It's dark, damp, moldy. Very unpleasant. It makes your nose itch, and you sneeze.

Upstairs, there is a vague commotion. You ignore it; after all, who but you can know the day-to-day struggles of a suit weaver? (A very noble profession, I will admit.) There was hardly a day without some seamstress accusing another of stealing her designs.

Someone comes down the stairs. Whoever he is, his gait is unnaturally light, as if every step was carefully balanced, thought out. In fact, you only realize someone is descending when you catch sight of one of the most beautiful suits you have ever seen.

You have no idea what the material is made out, but it shimmers with a dangerous black, even in the dim lighting of the basement. The dress shirt was crisp and white, the brightest thing in the room. It was a gorgeous ensemble; even the man's shoes shone, polished and precise.

But that wasn't the most interesting thing about the man. No, that right was reserved for his composition.

He was a skeleton. Of course, when you hear the word "skeleton," you think of a yellowing mockery. This man, standing on the stairs, poised and controlled, was made of the whitest, bleached bone. His hat was pulled low over his eye sockets, and you feel your stomach do backflips when your gaze meets his own.

"You're breathing in toxic mold," he says.

His voice hits you to the core. Something smooth and velvet, it makes your lower body turn into a quagmire. A low baritone, one that holds all the control in the world. It was a voice that could control armies; could convince the Pope to sin; could convince a mob boss to give all his dirty money away to charity. A voice like that would send nations to war at a single, powerful command and a brief wave of the hand.

"If you don't stop breathing in the air, your lungs are going to start growing a menagerie of fungi, and they I'll have to put you out of your misery."

Every word this man said seemed thought out, casual yet, somehow… powerful. You find yourself speechless.

* * *

Gordon cleared his throat and looked up. When he couldn't come up with anything, he looked back at the manuscript. He couldn't bring himself to flip to the next page.

"Obviously it's just a rough draft."

"Right. Yes," Gordon said, too loud and too fast. "Obviously."

Skulduggery tilted his head. He had been reclining in the armchair, hands resting over where his stomach would have been, but Gordon had the distinct feeling Skulduggery was observing him now.

"What do you think?"

Gordon swallowed. "Well, you… It's definitely… It has an extensive use of vocabulary." He looked down, eyes skimming. " _Quagmire_. That's quite the… mouthful," he finished lamely.

"Right, yes, but I was wondering more about the pacing, plot, description."

Gordon could feel his eye twitching. It was a nervous habit when he was lying. "Yes."

Skulduggery nodded. "I hope you realized you haven't actually  _said_  anything constructive."

"Oh. Oh, yes. Well." He cleared his throat again. "I'd like to know more about the main character's workplace."

"Really? I think I shouldn't spend so much time on the background. I need to focus more on the characters."

Gordon could feel sweat forming on his forehead. He glanced down again, but the word  _Pope_  assaulted his eyeballs and had to look back up. Skulduggery was very still, and Gordon realized he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Would… would the man in the suit be, uh, in any way… influenced by… yourself?"

Skulduggery tilted his head. "What would make you say that?"

"Nothing," Gordon said quickly.

"I feel as though you're skirting around the topic. You  _did_  offer to look at any writing I had laying around. I want your full and honest opinion. It's the least you could do, after ruining my favorite pair of shoes in your drunken stupor."

Gordon nearly laughed in relief. "Oh, it's a joke."

The silence that fell hit him like a fist.

Gordon grimaced. "Unless… it's  _not_. A joke. In which case, I think you have some great potent—"

"No, it is. I just wanted to see the look on your face."

Gordon sighed, sank back into his chair. "Remind me to never make that offer again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snerk.


	36. Inserts of the Sole: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **seethestardust said:**  
>  **"** your recent reader x skulduggery fanfic had a great twist, but I think an even better twist would've been continuing to grow my suspicion this was a reader x skulduggery's suit fic, instead **"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Continuation of chapter thirty-five, or, the previous chapter.**

Skulduggery stiffened, and Valkyrie whipped her head around, ready to punch someone in the face. However, the street seemed filled with normal people. In fact, everyone was acting normal, enjoying the nice weather. No danger.

She looked back at him. "Are you okay?"

He was still tense, shoulders raised, fists clenched. "Turn around and walk away casually."

Valkyrie's heart thudded against her chest as she did as instructed. They walked through the crowds of people, slowly, chatting about the recent football game coming up. She wished he would slip in some code, let her know what was going on.

"Skulduggery?"

Valkyrie frowned and turned around. An older gentleman stood there, head ducked, shy. Thinning hair, long face, sweater vest. He was a little creepy, but that didn't explain Skulduggery's quick, frustrated movements.

"I thought I gave you a restraining order," Skulduggery said, voice low and slow.

The man nodded. "You… You did but…" He looked between her and Skulduggery. "Who's this?" he asked, voice bordering on hurt and jealousy.

"My partner."

The man reached up to nibble on his thumb. "I see."

Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, then back at the man. "I'm sorry, who're you?"

"I'm You."

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"I'm You." He looked back at Skulduggery. "You look very nice. What's the fiber count of that one?"

Valkyrie squinted at him. "Are you asking about his suit?"

You swallowed and took a step forward. Valkyrie didn't move, but Skulduggery took a wary step back. Valkyrie shot the skeleton a look, face torn between a smile and a sneer.

"Please, just let me touch it."

Skulduggery shook his head. "No."

"Please," You begged, falling to his knees.

They were drawing a slightly crowd now. A few people stopped, watching the man on his knees, wringing his hands and looking close to tears. Skulduggery, for his part, was looking mildly disgusted; head tilted up, looking down the façade's nose at You. Valkyrie was still trying to decide if she should laugh.

"No, thank you," Skulduggery muttered. "Look, I've told you before, I'm not interested in… your admiration of my suits. I'm flattered, believe me. Well, I was flattered the first time. Now? Now, it's just…"

"Sad," Valkyrie suggested.

"Just a tad."

Tears were openly dripping down You's face. "But you're the best dressed man I've ever seen! I can't just—I can't just  _pretend_  not to see you! Your outfit! At least let me take a picture, so I can look at this suit again, please. God, that  _navy_."

Valkyrie laughed.

You's eyes snapped to her. "It's not  _funny_! You don't understand! Look at you, those shorts, that tank top." He shook his head. "Sunglasses, of all things!"

Valkyrie frowned. "I look hot."

"You're a  _heathen_."

Skulduggery clapped his hands together. "Well, You, this has been as entertaining as it normally is, but you've made a scene. My partner and I need to be on our way, and while I, again, am flattered—"

You wept.

"—we have appointments to keep. Find a suit store, You. They're not that rare."

Valkyrie grinned the entire way back to the Bentley. Skulduggery's shoulders started to hunch.

"Don't—"

"He has a crush on your outfit." She laughed again.

Skulduggery slumped. "He does."

"Hey," she managed between giggles, "at least he knows you're handsome."

Skulduggery looked at her. "I  _am_  handsome, aren't I?"


	37. Drafts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this thing on Tumblr](http://eyesocketsandsuits.tumblr.com/post/125903501664/ho-ho-ho) here I posted forever ago.

"I can't believe I'm missing Christmas," Valkyrie muttered.

Skulduggery glanced over at her. "We're  _not_  missing Christmas. As a matter of fact, Christmas is a week away. We'll be back well before Christmas—we'll be back so early, I'll still have to suffer under the holiday cheer."

"Yeah, exactly. We're missing the holiday cheer, which is almost as bad as missing Christmas." Valkyrie rubbed her hands together. "Oh, wow, this town is so cute."

"You've said that about every town we've ridden through."

Valkyrie gestured. "But  _look_. It looks like a postcard. The snow and the chimneys and the little red houses. We should stop and get gingerbread men. And hot chocolate. Or hot something. Seriously, it's cold."

"We'll, we  _are_  in Sweden."

Valkyrie sighed. "Yeah. Why couldn't we go somewhere warm for Christmas?"

"You're being incredibly annoying right now."

She grinned at him. "You just don't want to bleach."

"No," Skulduggery said, "I don't want to have to deal with you complaining about sunburn. I'd rather you you'd lose a toe."

"What?"

"Or your nose."

"You would rather me toe-less?"

"Or nose-less."

She frowned at him. "Don't be grumpy. Look on the bright side, maybe we can…" A house caught her attention, and she couldn't help but to watch it whip by them. "Did that house have a barbed-wire fence?"

"I believe so."

"Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Skulduggery shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, this is another country. They probably celebrate Christmas differently than we do. I can see the appeal in a good barbed-wire fence. It would keep out carolers, for one."

Valkyrie laughed, but she turned in her seat to watch the house recede. "It looked like it was cobbled together."

"Did it?"

"Don't pretend you aren't curious. Can we just poke around? Really, really quick, before we're yelled at by the Swedish Sanctuary? Because don't act like it wouldn't be a thousand-times more interesting."

Skulduggery huffed, but he was already pulling over to turn around.

They drove back and circled around the house. It seemed normal. Two stories, blue paint, a decent yard, a chimney with no smoke. Except for the fence, it was another postcard house. The barbed-wire was crudely fashioned together, welded quickly and badly. While there had been lights on in the other houses, or groups of people huddled around outside, this house was dark and deserted.

Valkyrie leaned over Skulduggery's seat on their third pass. "Look," she said, pointing, "the window's broken. Can you tell which side the glass broke on?"

"Not yet."

They pulled over and got out.

"It's fucking freezing," Valkyrie moaned. "Why couldn't we have been ordered here in the spring?"

The sky was gray, and Valkyrie couldn't tell if it was snowing against the endless white of the surroundings. The town was a few kilometers away, and no one had disturbed the snow around the house. There were woods far behind the house, and in front, nothing but an empty field.

Skulduggery shook the fence. Shook it again. "Thoughts?"

"Creepy," Valkyrie muttered. "It's deserted out here. What are they keeping out?"

"Or in." Skulduggery removed his hand, rubbed his fingers together. "This metal has magic woven into it." He whistled between his teeth, and they both fell silent, listening. "Well, if anyone's in there, they're not coming out."

Skulduggery wrapped his arm around her, and she grinned as they lifted into the air and landed neatly on the other side of the fence. She felt very heavy as she stepped away from him.

They walked slowly toward the house.

"Jesus," Valkyrie muttered. "Can you heat up the air?"

"I knew a man who tried to do that, actually."

Valkyrie perked. "Oh? Did he teach you?"

"No, he caught fire. He tried to vibrate the air molecules, and ended up creating too much friction." Skulduggery swept the snow out of the way, checked for glass in front of window. "Glass on the inside."

Valkyrie blew into her hands, wishing she could spark a flame. She stepped toward the window and boosted herself up. She checked around the house; it was almost entirely empty. There were a couple pictures on the walls, but every piece of furniture had been removed.

She pulled herself through the window, landing on her hands and knees, careful of the glass. She hopped up.

The front door opened and Skulduggery stepped in.

Valkyrie scowled.

"It was unlocked." When she didn't respond: "Though, I admire how ready you were just to crawl throw a window."

"Shut up."

"I'm impressed," he insisted.

They looked around. Valkyrie waited for Skulduggery signal that it was clear before she stepped further into the house. Skulduggery kept his hand out, but he obviously wasn't concerned. Valkyrie flexed her fingers, stretched out her palm; she didn't expect to feel anything.

"Nothing but the draft from the window," Skulduggery said softly. "But something's been in here within the last week."

"Maybe they moved?" Valkyrie walked into the middle of the living room. "Maybe they condemned the house. Magically." Her eyes fell on the corner of the room, and she walked over. "Look, pine needles. They had a Christmas tree."

"Maybe their holiday cheer killed them," Skulduggery said over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

Valkyrie rolled her eyes.

The ground floor only had the living room and the kitchen. There was a set of stairs going up. The house probably felt a lot smaller when it had furniture, but now it just seemed too empty. Valkyrie heard Skulduggery whistling in the kitchen, and the noise bounced strangely off the walls.

There were a couple of family photos on the wall. Valkyrie walked over to one, touched the glass. Two boys holding up fish in the spring, a toddler riding the back of a huge dog. A spot on the wall, faded, where another frame should have hung.

"There's a picture missing."

"They could have been robbed," Skulduggery said, walking back into the room. "Although, all the food in the fridge is gone. Well, the  _fridge_  is technically gone, but I assume the food is gone with it. The pantry's also been raided."

Valkyrie looked over to say something, but stopped. "There's blood on the stairs."

"I was wondering when you were going to notice that. Shall we check upstairs?"

Something  _thump_ ed.

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery. "Something thumped," she whispered.

Skulduggery snapped his fingers, and fire curled around his fingers.

"It might be a good thump," Valkyrie murmured, summoning her magic underneath her fingertips.

They moved toward the stairs, and Valkyrie waited for Skulduggery signal before following him. He kept one hand out in front of him, the other ready to throw the fire. Valkyrie's fingers buzzed, and her muscles kept twitching.

Something moved again. Skulduggery froze, and Valkyrie saw his head tilt before something crashed down onto the landing. Valkyrie cursed and let out a bolt of lightning, tripping over her feet and falling down. She scrambled up and summoned her magic to the surface again.

Skulduggery backed slowly down the stairs. Both his hands were up, pushing against the air. Something snapped and snarled against the barrier, and all Valkyrie saw was teeth. Huge, giant teeth that wouldn't look out of place in an ad for toothpaste.

Skulduggery reached her, and Valkyrie could finally get in a shot. The electricity whizzed through the air and struck the thing right in the tongue. The creature spasmed and slumped, slipping down a few stairs.

Skulduggery waited a minute before lowering his hands.

Valkyrie felt sick. "It ate them, didn't it?"

Skulduggery didn't answer.

The thing's mouth was immense, cartoonishly large. A giant set of teeth in a huge head, the rest of the body resembling a snake with human arms and legs glued on. It slipped down a few more steps.

Skulduggery turned his head to talk to her. The thing lunched forward, teeth clicking together, crashing into Skulduggery's legs.

He cursed, and Valkyrie screamed and slammed a kick into the thing's side. The thing scurried away, dragging Skulduggery through the living room and into the kitchen. Valkyrie ran after it, energy buzzing—but she kept  _missing_.

_I didn't put enough juice into it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I should have fucking fried the thing's brain when I had the chance._

Valkyrie ran into the kitchen, whirled around until she saw stairs leading into a basement. She cursed and hurried down them, flicking on the light.

She faced the basement, didn't see the thing until she heard it scuttering underneath the stairs. Skulduggery wasn't there, but she saw how the creature's stomach distended, and she didn't even think as she lifted her hand and let out a shot of energy.

The thing was already moving, though, and it ran at her. Valkyrie cursed and backpedaled, held up a hand to let off another shot, and then the thing's teeth clamped around Valkyrie's arm. It  _hurt_.

" _Fuck_ ," Valkyrie snarled.

She hauled herself and the thing backwards, struggled to get her free arm out of the jacket. She fell on her ass, and she kicked at the thing's jaw, her free wrist caught in the sleeve, and then it was free. She shot a snap of energy at the creature, but she knew it wasn't strong enough.

The thing's mouth tightened and then loosened around her. Valkyrie ripped her trapped arm away—lost the coat.

The thing was stunned, but it still inhaled the coat. Valkyrie scrambled back, managed to get her feet under her. The creature was blocking the stairs, and there was no way she could—

It lunged at her, and Valkyrie hurried back until her head hit brick. But her back didn't. She ducked, looked up through the chimney, made sure it was open. She turned sideways and braced her back against the bricks, put her boots on the wall, and pushed herself upwards.

The thing struggled to get its mouth through the opening of the chimney, and Valkyrie was steadily working her way upwards.

And then her arms scrapped against the stone, and her heart jumped to her throat.

_It got narrower_.

Valkyrie forced herself to breathe normally as she forced herself upwards. Her arms were fully against the brick, and she felt her skin peel with each movement. The thing had managed to wedge its way up after her. Now her chest pressed against the brick, and she had a horrible image of getting jammed, getting—

"Skulduggery!" she yelled. "Skulduggery, you need to get  _out_  of there! Please!"

She slipped down, cried out, dug her knees into the bricks and managed to continue to inch herself upwards. She couldn't breathe. She was going to die, and all she could see was the little patch of gray sky far above her.

Blood dripped off the tips of her fingers, and she felt like an idiot.

She stopped moving and concentrated. She felt drained, stress and fear making her magic flighty, and she had already shot off more than usual. She tried to force air into her lungs, but she heard the creature getting closer and abandoned the idea.

Her hands glowed, and she poured as much magic into her fingers as she could, waited until the thing got closer, teeth clicking and breath wheezing. Released the magic. And then she scooted to the tips of her boots and let herself plummet down.

* * *

Skulduggery was sulking. He had lifted all the slime off of his clothes, but he moved gingerly. He watched as Valkyrie dragged the monster's body from the chimney to the stairs.

"You could help," she muttered.

"I'm recovering from my ordeal."

"You were only digested for like, five minutes. And I couldn't have hurt you  _that_  much when I landed." Valkyrie put her foot on the first stair and hauled the thing up by the tail. "I killed the monster."

"Not before it ate me."

"Yes, but  _before_  it digested you—don't I get points for that?"

Skulduggery waved a hand, and the monster floated off the stairs and into the air. Valkyrie watched it pass over her head warily.

"You get a few."

Valkyrie walked back over to the chimney and picked up her coat. "God, it's so slimy." She held it out.

"Valkyrie, that must be terrible. Your precious coat, covered in digestive acid? How do you cope?" He waved a hand, and the slime dripped off the coat and onto the ground. "You must need—"

"I'm sorry you got eaten, okay?" She grinned at him.

Skulduggery marched up the stairs, and Valkyrie laughed and followed after him.

Valkyrie rang the Swedish Sanctuary, and after having several miscommunications, she handed the phone to Skulduggery, who arranged a pickup for the monster. They sat next to one another and watched the monster.

Valkyrie shivered, and she reluctantly pulled on her coat. She shocked the monster again, just to make sure.

"Did you get me a Christmas present yet?"

Skulduggery pointed. "Say hello to your new pet."


	38. Stephanie in Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post here [by urbanstar96](http://urbanstar96.tumblr.com/post/85849548594/welcome-to-wonderland-miss-cain-where-your) .

Stephanie cursed again, ripping her hair out of the thorns. She had never known a forest that was filled to the brim with so many thorn bushes, but her hair or her skin or her dress caught on every single one of them.

"Well, I'm glad you dressed up for the occasion."

Stephanie's head snapped up, and he raised her fists. "You're a skeleton."

The skeleton nodded. "You're poorly dressed."

Stephanie scowled. "I'm wearing a dress that's ripped to shreds marching around a jungle. You're a skeleton."

The skeleton's head tilted. "You're telling me that you haven't seen  _anything_  stranger in your time here? Nothing? I'm the strangest thing in this entire mad world, a skeleton?"

Stephanie's eyebrows furrowed. "There was the—the pig-baby."

The skeleton nodded. "That sounds dreadful."

"Alright, you're a skeleton with a table full of food."

The skeleton held up a tea cup, pinkie extended. "I'm practically bones."

Stephanie hesitated for just a moment, then trudged over. At least she had the sense to put on her boots. She sat down, glared at the skeleton, and shoved a biscuit in her mouth. And then another.

The skeleton continued to hold the tea cup. Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

"Can you even drink that?"

The cup was gently replaced. "No," the skeleton said softly.

Stephanie laughed at him, then poured herself her own tea and gulped it down. "I'm really happy I didn't grow a second head or something." She sat back, sated. "I don't know why you guys like to mess with the food here."

"I'm Skulduggery Pleasant, Miss Cain."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "My name is Stephanie."

"Not here it's not."

A silence fell. The sunlight slanted through the trees, and for a second, Stephanie almost felt peaceful. In the clearing—with the table just sort of there—the forest didn't seem so gloomy. She nibbled on another biscuit.

"The Queen is looking for you," Skulduggery said at last.

Stephanie nodded. "So I've been told like, a hundred times. Everyone here is really rude."

"That's why they made China the queen. Class. Poise. Everything you need in a leader."

Stephanie frowned. "The guy with weird hair said she was going to cut my head off."

Skulduggery poured himself another cup of tea, even though she was sure it had been full a second ago. "Yes, well, we all can't be perfect."

"I'm pretty sure beheadings are a big flaw."

Skulduggery shrugged. "What did you do?"

Stephanie threw her hands in the air. "Look, I just want to get home! Er, back to the wake."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Was the departed close?"

It was Stephanie's turn to shrug, but she had to look away. "He was my uncle."

"Was he a good uncle?"

"What constitutes a bad uncle?"

Skulduggery cleared his throat. "I knew a man once who turned his nephew into a pig. Granted, it must have been a very nice life, as far as pigs' lives go. But then the nephew overheard that his uncle was planning on selling him to the butcher's, so he escaped."

Stephanie didn't realize she had leaned forward to listen. She sat back. "And then what?"

"He went on to be a very successful accountant."

"As a pig?"

Skulduggery looked around, then lowered his voice. "That's pigist."

Stephanie started to look over her shoulder. "I literally just had a pig-baby…"

"Better be careful. The more people to talk to around here, the harder it is to leave."

A chill ran down Stephanie's arms. "Are you going to keep me here?"

"Why would I? I was perfectly content before you came blundering through the forest."

"But you were all alone."

Skulduggery nodded. "You're saying that as if it's a problem. I'm my best companion. I'm the only one who can appreciate my jokes."

"Ah."

Skulduggery refilled his cup. "Like that one."

"What?"

"That whole little bit there was a joke. Sort of like an extended metaphor, but with a joke."

Stephanie squinted at him. "So… what you're saying is that you're lonely?"

"Terribly," Skulduggery said brightly.

"Why don't you just leave?"

Skulduggery offered the teapot. "Well, simply because it's not that easy. I would, if I could. I've tried many, many times. I wasn't always alone. There was a little group, but each time we would leave, one of us wouldn't come back. I have a fantastic talent for inspiring death."

Stephanie blinked. "Why don't you just come with me? I already have a death warrant."

"But that would mean I'm getting involved. And I'm perfectly content here, telling myself jokes."

"Skulduggery, that's a little messed up."

"That's skeletonist."

Stephanie stood. "There's no point staying here. China is going to find me."

"You better hope she does."

"What?"

Skulduggery adjusted his hat. "There are worst things in Wonderland than China, Miss Cain."

"Like what?"

"As I said, the more you find out, the harder it is to leave. How  _did_  you end up here?"

Stephanie sighed. "There was a wake. I needed a breather. Followed a weird guy who looked out of place and fell down a hole."

"You… fell down a hole?"

"A really big hole."

"You didn't see it?"

Stephanie crossed her arms. "I was looking for the weird guy!"

Skulduggery held up a hand. "We can't all pay attention."

"You don't even have eyes!"

"And yet I dress better than you."

Stephanie turned and walked away. She plunged into another bramble, cursing. It took her a few minutes to hear the soft pad of feet behind her. She whirled around, fists raised, and then dropped them.

Skulduggery tipped his hat to her. "I apologize if I was rude. It has been a while since I've last spoken to someone."

Stephanie pointed to her dress. "One: I didn't pick this out."

Skulduggery nodded. "Fair enough."

"Two: People fall down holes."

"Alright."

Stephanie nodded. "I forgive you. Where are we going?"

Skulduggery pointed. "That way."

"What's that way?"

"I've been sitting at that table for decades. I honestly have no idea where anything is."

"Perfect."


	39. God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new book.

There was a man leaning over Valkyrie's bed.

She didn't even think as her fist leapt up against the man's face.

She scrambled upright in bed, wrapping the sheets around her tightly. Valkyrie didn't believe in pajamas, but it also meant if some creep woke her up, she was naked.

The man had fallen onto the ground and was covering his face with his hands. He seemed to be trying not to cry.

"Um," Valkyrie said.

"You punched me," the creep moaned.

"You're in our  _house_."

Valkyrie stood and edged her way around the man. She kept her eye on him as she pulled on clothing.

He didn't  _look_  like an assassin. He was much too fat for that. And he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He even had glasses.

Not that assassins couldn't have glasses, but Valkyrie guessed only really bad assassins had glasses. Assassins probably got laser eye surgery.

The creep pulled his hands away from his face. Blood trickled out of his nose. He looked at Valkyrie, in a t-shirt and shorts, blanket around her shoulders.

"Wow," he breathed.

Valkyrie walked over and put her foot on his face. She mashed his cheek into the ground.

"Who are you?"

The man flailed, slightly. "Gohd."

"What?"

"I'm God."

Valkyrie did not remove her foot. "Excuse me?"

The man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm God." He tried to smile, but the blood from his nose dripped onto his teeth.

A delusional man, then.

"How did you wander in here?" Valkyrie asked.

The man's eyebrows furrowed. "I  _poof_ ed here. I'm God."

Well, that line of questioning wasn't getting anywhere.

" _Skulduggery_!" Valkyrie called. "There's a delusional man in our house!"

The man wiggled on the ground. He reminded Valkyrie of an excited worm, or something. Could worms be excited?

Skulduggery opened Valkyrie's door. "Good morning to you, as well."

"Can worms be excited?" Valkyrie asked.

Skulduggery looked at the man on the floor. "I feel as though you should be concerned with the man on the floor. But far be it from me to rank the random circumstances and questions in your life on a scale of importance, so I supposed I'll answer your question: Worms are too stupid to feel excitement."

Valkyrie frowned. "That's rude."

"To worms?"

The man on the ground raised a feeble hand. "Excuse me?"

Valkyrie smushed her toes into his face. "Shush, creepy intruders don't get to talk until spoken to." Valkyrie looked back at Skulduggery. "Maybe worms think  _you're_  too stupid to be excited. Ever think about that?"

The man wiggled. "I didn't see you naked, if that's what you're—"

Valkyrie stepped harder on the man's face. "Shut up."

Skulduggery knelt down to the creepy man's level. "Hello there, delusional man," he said, not unkindly. "How did you manage to get by the alarms?"

"I  _poof_ ed here!"

Valkyrie winced. "I, uh, forget to set the alarm."

Skulduggery looked at her.

Valkyrie held up her hands. "In my defense, it was late."

Skulduggery looked back at the creepy man. "How did you get past the guard dog?"

Valkyrie closed her eyes. "I gave Xena the week off. Alice was visiting a city, or something, and she said there are dog parks and dog boutiques and…" Valkyrie pursed her lips. "Sorry."

"For the last time, I'm  _God_!" the man on the floor yelled.

Skulduggery nodded slowly. "Which God? One of the Faceless One's worshippers? Or a Darquesse worshipper—the god to the goddess, so to speak. A Druid god? A Teletubbie's God? Frankly, you can pick any god, because I don't really care  _which_  God you are. I'm more interested as to why you were harassing my partner."

God raised his hand again. "I can prove it."

Skulduggery tutted. "You seem to be missing the point, delusional man. I really don't care."

"No," the man said loudly, "I swear—"

Valkyrie sighed. "Gosh, what is it with dudes and breaking into my room?"

"Skulduggery, you love  _Zootopia_!" the man yelled again.

Valkyrie laughed.

Skulduggery did not.

Skulduggery stood. "He is God."

Valkyrie frowned. "What?"

Skulduggery carefully smoothed his shirt down. "You are currently standing on God's face."

"No, not that—you  _love Zootopia_?" Valkyrie grinned. "I  _knew_  you related to Nick. You did, didn't you? And how can you not love Judy?"

Skulduggery looked at her for one long second. "I suggest you stop standing on God's face before he decides to smite you."

Valkyrie opened her mouth.

"And to stop talking about  _Zootopia_  before  _I_  smite you."

Valkyrie removed her foot from God's face.

God slowly picked himself up. He fixed his hair and glasses. He took a moment to compose himself.

Skulduggery finally broke. "Valkyrie, stop grinning at me."

God held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both."

Valkyrie—as a rule—didn't shake hands of men who broke into her room. Skulduggery hunched his shoulders.

"I don't," Skulduggery said, "shake the hands of men who reveal my biggest secrets."

God's fingers practically withered into his hands. He didn't let this deter him.

"Well," God said, clapping his hands together, "I have a question I want to ask you both. Now, I've traveled a long way to ask you both—"

"Can we get on with it?" Skulduggery interrupted.

Valkyrie shook her head. "See? You've made him angry. You couldn't pick something a little better, like, his greatest fear or something? The last meal he ate? His hair color?"

God was distressed. "How would you two like to save the world again? Go on more adventures?"

A chill ran down Valkyrie's spine. "We go on plenty of adventures. Just last week, I punched  _at least_  five people."

"Six," Skulduggery corrected.

God waved their words away. "Can you imagine? Another boo—another year or month or  _week_  of action and adventure?! The Earth, on the brink of collapsing, when you—"

Valkyrie's throat tightened. Her hands were shaking, and she stilled them. "Another war?"

Skulduggery nodded. "Maybe kill a few more of our friends?"

God wilted. "But you two  _like_  adventure!"

"We like solving mysteries," Skulduggery said, voice still sharp. "It's been nice. We've saved up some money, tidied up after the last war, protected people. It's been busy and not horrifically trauma inducing. We save the world because we have to, because we put the pieces together."

Valkyrie closed her eyes. "Because we're the ones who were about to destroy it."

God coughed. "It will be better this time," he said lamely.

When Valkyrie opened her eyes, God was gone.


	40. Subways : Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to the subway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from [this story here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4189470/chapters/9498252) I wrote forever ago.

Valkyrie was in awe.

Skulduggery was not in awe. He was slightly irritated.

"So," Valkyrie began again, "you're telling me that you can  _understand_  that voice?"

Skulduggery sighed. "My dearest Valkyrie, for the last time:  _yes_."

The voice from the subway speaker blared again.

"What did it just say?" Valkyrie asked, eyes flicking from the intercom to Skulduggery.

"It asked how you can possibly be this dull."

Valkyrie made a face. "It called me boring?"

"Dim-witted, darling," Skulduggery muttered. "It said it's lost."

"The speaker is lost?"

"No." Skulduggery pointed out the window, into the darkness that was the New York subway station. "The train is lost. The intercom  _is_  the train."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's very unimpressive."

The speaker blared static.

Valkyrie bounced in her seat. "Oh, what it say?"

Skulduggery nodded. "It said that your puny, human body is unimpressive."

"The speaker is a tiny bit rude."

Skulduggery shrugged. "So are you."

Valkyrie sighed. "So, what, are we stuck down here in the sewers? I was promised a glowing forest, Skulduggery." Valkyrie tied her hair back. "My nap wasn't even that good."

Skulduggery crossed his arms and faced the speaker. "Do," he said loudly, "you have a map?"

Static.

"Does it have a map?"

"No."

Valkyrie considered. "Do we have a plan B?"

Skulduggery put his hands on his hips. "I found this mystery, I booked the plane tickets, I figured out the utter and absolute  _mess_  that is this subway system, I hailed the taxi; I'm afraid it's your turn for a plan."

Valkyrie looked around. She stood up. She walked over to the doors. She kicked them.

"Open up!"

Valkyrie heard the speakers this time:

" _That fucking hurt_!"

The subway doors  _woosh_ ed open. Valkyrie stuck her head out and looked side to side. There was about two feet in between the subway car and the wall. Valkyrie hopped down onto the tracks.

"Right or left, Skulduggery?"

"This is your plan."

Valkyrie turned right and shimmied along the wall until she was free of the car. Skulduggery followed a few seconds later.

Skulduggery adjusted his tie as he looked around. "The subway car told me to pass along a message to you."

Valkyrie perked.

"It said, and I'm quoting, not to shame you or your combat boots, but the subway car said: 'Fuck you and your shitty boots.' Now, I, for one, am a fan of your combat boots. They really hide the fact that your feet are a size or two above average."

"Hey, at least I have feet."

Valkyrie saw Skulduggery look down in the light of the subway car. "I'm sorry, but do you think I don't have feet? I'm afraid to ask, but what am I standing on right now?"

Valkyrie heaved a deep sigh. "Yeah, I know you have  _feet_ , but you don't have, like, tendons and stuff."

"I see the anatomy lessons paid off."

Valkyrie snorted a laugh. "Shut up, you coat rack."

The subway car shuddered, and Valkyrie slammed herself against the wall. She was not going to get crushed underneath a subway car, not today. She had horrific flashes of her fate—metal tires, the sound of screeching filling her ears, sparks, her fragile tendons, dashed in the dark of this sewer subway.

The subway car trundled of in the other direction.

It was now pitch dark.

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie said loudly, "are you still here?"

"No."

Valkyrie slid her foot forward, toeing the ground to make sure she wasn't going to fall right on her face.

Without the subway car, it was creepy. No light, just distant dripping and scattering of something nearby, a rustling. Sound bounced off the stone, and Valkyrie suddenly lost all sense of how far away the walls were. Strange drafts played with her hair.

"No light?" Valkyrie asked, voice echoing.

"Your plan. And besides, you need to practice with your magic. You certainly can barbeque an enemy, but you lack the subtleties you were just beginning to develop with your elemental and necromancy magic."  
Valkyrie flexed her fingers. Her magic was like an excitable dog; Valkyrie had a very worn, very thin leash.

The magic bubbled down her arm and into her fingers, eager to come out and play. Valkyrie closed her eyes and went through the steps Skulduggery had drilled into her.

A breath. Her heartbeat in her ears. The magic, buzzing in her soul, jumping from cell to cell. She was not to fight it. It was a part of her. Like the air in her lungs, in her blood. She didn't have to fight the air.

"Am I doing it?"

"Open your eyes."

Valkyrie opened her eyes. White light crackled from one fingertip to the next. She grinned.

"I'm the best ever."

Skulduggery nodded. "That you are. Shall we?"

"Right." Valkyrie marched off in her awesome combat boots.

Her awesome combat boots sloshed loudly in the puddles. In smelled of mold.

"Oh my God, ew."

"Now, are you referring to the rats, the sewer water, the—"

Valkyrie blanched. "There's a mushroom."

Skulduggery looked around. "Where?"

Valkyrie pointed. "Look, right there! God, it's so—so  _gross_."

Skulduggery shook his head. "One day, your mouth is going to get me horrifically killed. And it will be because I am a noble protector, and I'll dive in the way of some gruesome death magic, and disintegrate, all because you insulted a mushroom."

"I ate mushroom pizza once." Valkyrie looked into space. "It was really, really gross."

"I don't have a tongue, and can't comment on what you once said, however for the sake of a conversation, I'm just going to talk because I know you're going to only say something if I fill the silence."

Valkyrie hurried past the mushroom. "Look, just trust me when I say— _shit_  there's another one! It's huge!"

The magic on her finger tips fizzled out into the damp air.

"Valkyrie, can I ask why you're now walking in the dark?"

"There are no mushrooms in the dark, Skulduggery."

"Impeccable logic."

"Hold my hand and lead me. Skulduggery— _Skulduggery_ , hold my  _hand_. I can't  _see_. I'm going to trip and fall onto my  _face_."

"I'm going to point this out once and only once: This dilemma is one that is easily solved by you simply ignoring the mushrooms."

"You don't love me."

"I do, very much, but I don't love you more than I hate this sudden and inexplicable phobia of mushrooms you've developed."

Valkyrie frowned. "Hold on… Oh my God, I can see the mushrooms. This is the worst trip ever. They're  _huge._ "

"They have bioluminescence. There's a light up ahead."

And there was. Far away, an orange flame flickered. Far away, past a disturbing amount of mushrooms hanging from the ceiling.

"Hello!" the flame called, voice bouncing down the subway tunnel. "Thank you  _so_  much for coming!" The voice was rather shrill.

"Oh God," Valkyrie breathed.

By the time they had reached the woman, the mushrooms had started growing heads and spikes.

"Oh, wow, thank you so much for coming. Valkyrie and Skulduggery, like, wow." She laughed. Loudly. "I'm Lampshade."

Valkyrie thought she misheard. "I'm sorry?"

She laughed again. "Oh, yeah. I lost a bet. The bet was that I wouldn't have a stupid taken name. So I guess I won it? Anyways, I'm talking a lot. Someone stole a bomb, so we're sort of freaking out."

Valkyrie frowned. "Wait, what?"

Lampshade started leading them further down the tunnel. "Well, you see, we take care of the forest. There's a lot of screwy stuff in here, and one of them is this mushroom-bomb thing. Well, someone stole her, we don't know who."

Valkyrie opened her mouth to try and get some coherency out of this girl, when the tunnel opened up.

The walls dropped away to her right and left, leaving only the low ceiling. Full grown trees hung down, all glowing a soft, milky green. Attached to the ceiling. There were trees on the ceiling. Valkyrie could see their roots digging into the concrete above her head.

She looked at the ground. Still the gravel. She looked back out.

Everything was a twilight. It was an upside-down pine tree forest, the very tips of the trees just brushing the ground. The air was fresh here. Water trickled down, over the trunks, dripped from the pine needles.

Lampshade smiled. "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it really is." Valkyrie grinned back. "What is this place?"

"The city is above us, and all the pollution leeches down. These trees purify the water, pump out clean air." Lampshade reached out and touched one of the trees. It glowed brighter under her fingertips. "They're actually modified mushrooms, spiced up with some magic. It's why they glow."

Skulduggery nudged Valkyrie with his elbow. Valkyrie was not amused.

Lampshade took a deep breath. " _Adam_!" she yelled, voice shrill and high. The sound was swallowed up by the leaves. Lampshade gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, I told him we should get walkie-talkies." She turned back around. " _Adam_!"

"Lampshade and Adam?" Valkyrie whispered to Skulduggery.

"He obviously didn't lose the bet."

A man pushed aside the branches of a tree. "Lampshade, I'm here." His attention switched to Valkyrie and Skulduggery. He walked toward them, removed his gardening glove, extended a hand. "Thanks for coming. Adam Mags."

Skulduggery shook his hand. "I'd love to get some more information about this bomb. I have to admit, part of the reason we came was to see the famed forest. However, finding the bomb would probably be more useful than sightseeing."

Lampshade's grin hadn't left. "We're totally hiring. The pay sucks but it's fun."

Valkyrie smiled politely. "No, I'm a detective."

Skulduggery shook his head. "I've killed every plant I've ever owned."

Adam looked scandalized.

Lampshade nodded, not phased in the slightest. "Alrighty, well, this way is where we grow the bombs. Careful, if you step on one and inhale the spores, a colony will start in your lungs. They're very sensitive."

Valkyrie followed slightly behind Skulduggery.

"I fucking hate mushrooms," Valkyrie breathed.

Skulduggery's head tilted to the right. He was grinning.

Valkyrie punched his arm.


	41. Coccyx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigation of a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **lol**

 Valkyrie crouched by the bed, eyebrows drawn together. "How do we know it isn't a heart attack? He's an old guy, and old guys have weak hearts, and intercourse involves a lot of heart pumping."

"Look at the picture," Skulduggery said, nodding his head in the direction of the side table.

"Well, that could be his grandson." Valkyrie frowned. "However, they have that same…" Valkyrie tapped her nose. "What, from a broken nose, probably? Doesn't flow with his chin, where it should be."

"Oh, well, yes."

Valkyrie looked over her shoulder at him. "That wasn't the answer you were looking for?"

Skulduggery held up a wallet. "I found this in his pants, and it's the same person in the license picture. However, I admit that I'm admiring that observation. That's a point for you on this investigation."

Valkyrie smiled. "Ahead already. Okay, so." She stood up and held up a finger. "Young man suddenly becomes old man overnight." A second finger. "A mortal, which rules out any intentional age-modification. That leaves an external source."

Skulduggery nodded.

Valkyrie couldn't keep her eyes away from the body.

The guy was shirtless, pants around his ankles—he still had his steel toed boots on, covered in concrete. He was decrepit, skin loose around his bones, nearly transparent, eyes sunken in. Hair nothing more than a few strands. In fact, Valkyrie was reminded of a mummy.

Except for the man's penis.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at Skulduggery, and she couldn't stop the smirk from creeping across his face.

"Do…" she began.

Skulduggery tilted his head up, slightly; had the façade been active, his eyes would have been closed. "Valkyrie, I am beseeching you to avoid mentioning the elephant in the room. I have never prayed for anything more in the entirety of my life than for you and I to exit this room without mentioning anything."

Valkyrie held up her hands. "Alright, alright."

Valkyrie grabbed the picture from the table, Skulduggery activated his façade, and they exited the apartment. The Cleavers nodded respectfully as they passed. Valkyrie shoved her hands in her pockets, smiling to herself.

"Valkyrie, please stop thinking about it."

She broke and threw her hands in the air. "Look, all I'm wondering if there's a way to get rid of the boner for the funeral! That's all I'm asking!"

Skulduggery shook his head. "You are such a disappointment."

"Look—"

"If you were a construction worker, what would you do on a Friday evening?"

 

* * *

 

The bartender cleaned the glass with a rag. How sanitary could that possibly be? The same rag, never washed, used on multiple cups and mugs?

Valkyrie shivered.

Skulduggery nodded. "Good afternoon. We're Detectives Pleasant and Cain."

The bartender grunted. "Shoulda' figured as much. No one comes in here with a suit on, not unless they're the police asking questions."

"How astute you are," Skulduggery said. "That's exactly what my partner and I are. Do you happen to know this fellow?" Skulduggery offered the picture to the man. "He was found dead in his apartment this morning. Johnathon Donoghue, construction worker."

The bartender looked it over, still cleaning the same glass, movements robotic. "He looks the same as any other lug who comes in here."

Valkyrie resisted the urge to sigh. "Right, but we have reason to believe he was here last night. This is by far the most popular bar in the area, judging by the size and proximity to other bars—or, well, the lack of any nearby pubs."

The bartender kept cleaning. "Well, if you know all that, I'm sure you would understand that it might be hard to keep track of all the faces that pass through, Detective."

Valkyrie smiled. "Of course. Well, if that's the case, I'm sure you'd be more than willing to let us see your security footage."

His hands froze. His eyes flicked to the ceiling, to the cameras, then back to her. Valkyrie could practically see the gears turning in his mind.

"Do you have a permit?" he finally asked.

Valkyrie shrugged. "No, but if that's the issue, it would only take an hour to get one."

The bartender let out a sigh. "Right. This way."

Bless those uneducated in the law.

He led them through a door, into what must have been the storage room. Crates of booze were littered about, along with a mop that was covered in cobwebs. There a stairwell tucked away into the corner.

The computer was in a tiny office, cluttered with what looked like bills and various bookkeeping sheets. The whole room felt green and grimy, and Valkyrie's claustrophobia loomed with the three of them inside.

The bartender gestured to the computer. "Help yourselves. Don't keep anything organized in files, but considered you're smart and all that, I'm sure you can find what you're looking for. I'll be out front, if you need me."

He lingered by the doorway, hand trailing on the wood, but he shook his head and moved off.

Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie.

Valkyrie frowned. "What?"

"This is your department, I'm afraid."

"Oh sure, just because  _you're_  four hundred years old,  _I'm_  expected to all the technological stuff." Valkyrie collapsed into the computer chair. "That's three points for me. Alright, let's see…"

It only took a minute of clicking to find the security footage. Skulduggery leaned over her shoulder, arm resting on the back of the chair, fingers just brushing against her.

"There's no footage for yesterday," Valkyrie said.

"Suspicious. Scroll down, please."

He could read much faster than her, so she scrolled down quicker than she could process the dates.

"Every month or so."

Valkyrie tapped her finger absently on the mouse. "Could be a recording thing. A glitch."

"And yet…" Skulduggery stopped.

Valkyrie looked at him. Her eyes caught movement behind him, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a woman leaning against the door frame.

Skulduggery didn't move his position, but he did look over. "Good afternoon."

The woman was absolutely stunning. Her hair was dark and curly, a halo around her head. She was thin, shapely, with a robe that was hanging off her. Nothing was left to the imagination.

"Can I ask," she said, voice light and airy, "why you're trespassing on private property?"

Valkyrie couldn't speak. Luckily, Skulduggery never lost his voice. He stood and swept over to her, extending his hand. She looked at it for a second, and then a smile melted across her features like warm butter, and she shook Skulduggery's hand.

"I apologize. We're Detectives Cain and Pleasant. We're investigating a murder case. The last sighting was at this bar, so we were examining the security footage from last night." Skulduggery removed his hand, and stepped back to stand at Valkyrie's chair.

The woman crossed her arms. "I see. I was going to say, if you two  _were_  trespassers, you're very polite ones." She smiled again.

Valkyrie cleared her throat. "Right yes. And you are?"

The woman hardly glanced at Valkyrie. "I'm Liboko."

Skulduggery's façade smiled politely. "South African, I take it?"

"How could you tell?" The woman laughed. "I thought my accent faded years ago." She waved at the computer. "Hopefully you've found everything you need…?"

Skulduggery nodded. "Indeed. My partner and I were just about to take our leave. Valkyrie?"

Valkyrie stood and nodded to Liboko. Her skin prickled as they passed, and Valkyrie had the uncomfortable feeling that Liboko was glaring a hole into the back of her head. Skulduggery opened the door, ushering her through.

The bartender stared at them. "Done so soon?"

Skulduggery nodded. "Indeed. Luckily, we've found exactly what we need. Have a wonderful rest of the day."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Valkyrie turned toward him. "What? What is it? What did you figure out?"

Skulduggery tilted his head back and forth. "A succubus."

Valkyrie stared at him. "We have those?"

Skulduggery laughed, leading them back towards the Bentley. "Not in the traditional sense. They aren't demons, as they're commonly described in the mythos. Just attractive people who seized upon an opportunity."

Valkyrie sank into the Bentley. "So, what you're telling me is that she seduced Donoghue and… And what?"

Skulduggery considered, retracting the façade and starting the engine. "I'm not entirely sure. Obviously, she killed him, but there's not many people who observe a succubus participating in her ritual. Energy is transferred from one to the other, which probably killed poor Donoghue."

Valkyrie bit her lip to hide her smile.

Skulduggery sighed. "You might as well say it."

"It explains the penis, doesn't it?"

"A gross disappointment, dear."

 

* * *

 

Valkyrie glared at the bar. If she hadn't loved the Bentley so much, she would have taken off her boots and pressed her feet against the windshield. But she did love the Bentley, so all she could do was glare at the bar across the street.

This was a dumb plan.

Valkyrie crossed her arms.

This was the dumbest plan. Not only that, but it was a dangerous plan. It was the type of plan that leads to someone being hurt, or killed.

Being separated was a bad idea.

Being separated so one of them could lure out a dangerous sex monster was worse.

Being separated so one of them could lure out a dangerous sex monster who killed with unknown methods was the worst idea of them all.

Hell, maybe Liboko could kill even though Skulduggery didn't have a penis. It was robbery of cell energy, and even though Skulduggery didn't have the traditional body, he still had a consciousness, plus magical energy.

Of course, Liboko would have to seduce Skulduggery far enough to realize he did not, in fact, have a penis, and then try to suck out his magical energy.

Not that the plan was for Skulduggery to get seduced at all. Just to lead Liboko to a quiet part of the town, so he and Valkyrie could beat her up and take her in for questioning. Well, it wasn't  _technically_  in the plan to beat her up, but Skulduggery had assured her that Liboko would resist arrest.

Valkyrie groaned.

Maybe it didn't matter  _how_  Liboko had sex. There must surely be ways to be intimate with someone of a more skeletal nature that didn't fall under the category of traditional "sex." After all, Skulduggery still felt pain when attacked. It made sense that he might also feel pleasure.

Of course, Liboko had probably never had sex with a skeleton. Perhaps one needed to understand how Skulduggery's body worked before one could envision sexual intercourse with a skeleton.

It would certainly be a surprise if one was expecting a human body.

Well, a live body.

Valkyrie was done thinking about this. She just hoped Skulduggery would hurry up, so she could stop thinking about him having sex. Well, how to pleasure him.

Surely, it was something Skulduggery would know how to do to himself. After all, knowing him, he  _must_  have gotten curious at some point. However, he doesn't experience human urges, so—

God damn it, there she went again!

Valkyrie started counting. It took her until five hundred and twelve before Skulduggery's tall silhouette appeared, Liboko presumably the one on his arm.

Valkyrie slipped out of the Bentley, following a safe distance behind.

The wind wasn't in her favor, so she could only hear brief snatches of conversation, and none of it made any sense. At some point, she swore she heard something about pickles.

Skulduggery turned into the alley they had agreed upon—in a quieter part of town, away from other pubs and streetlights—and Valkyrie ran over. As soon as she turned the corner, Skulduggery flew past her, letting out a little cry.

Liboko glared at her, still beautiful. "Ah, so you are here, too. It figures. I don't want to kill you."

Valkyrie held her hands up. "You're under arrest for assaulting a Sanctuary agent and resisting questioning."

Liboko's lip curled. "Pity."

Valkyrie summoned her magic, but Liboko was already running towards her, head down. Valkyrie aimed, but Liboko slammed into her.

Something much harder than a head dug into Valkyrie's stomach, and she flew backwards.

Skulduggery caught her. They both went down onto the asphalt.

"Ow," Valkyrie said.

"Careful, she has horns."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Valkyrie dragged herself up.

Liboko stood there, growing. Her feet started to meld together, toes into her foot into her heel, and something was emerging from her back.

Valkyrie held her hand up and fired off energy. It struck Liboko head on, and she screamed, shuddering. Regardless, wings burst from her back, big, leathery abominations that reeked of something like sweat.

Her dress didn't survive, and it fell away to reveal a body too skinny, breasts sagging. She screeched.

Skulduggery laughed. "She sounds like a goat," he muttered, then snapped his fingers.

Valkyrie shot her lightening across the puddles that appeared. But Liboko saw what was happened, and with a great flap of her wings, she ascended.

Skulduggery waved his hand, and a gust of wind slapped Liboko out of the air. She screamed, flapping furiously, and then she was heading towards Valkyrie.

Valkyrie ducked, but it didn't stop Liboko from grabbing a fistful of her hair and twisting. Panic flared through Valkyrie's chest, and she lost whatever grasp of magic she had on her fingertips.

There was a ripping sensation. Valkyrie screamed, thrashing.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Liboko hissed.

Her claws searched for a weak spot in Valkyrie's clothing. Valkyrie blinked away the tears and slammed her elbow back as hard as she could.

Luckily, Liboko's liver was in the same spot. She dropped Valkyrie, gasping. Valkyrie turned and lashed out blindly with her palm, tears still in her eyes, and heard a satisfying crunch.

Something crunched Valkyrie's hand to the pavement, and she tried to recoil, but then Liboko was on top of her, screaming. The smell of burnching flesh filled Valkyrie's nostrils.

Suddenly, she was pulled into the fresh air.

Skulduggery checked her hand quickly. "I set her hair on fire, if that makes you feel any better."

Liboko flapped her wings, and before Valkyrie could think, she was running. Skulduggery called out after her, but Valkyrie leapt onto Liboko's back, flames and smoke blowing into her face.

Valkyrie rolled with no purchase, grabbing out blindly with her good hand. She heard something crack, and then they were back on the ground, Liboko screaming.

Valkyrie was sitting on one of the wings. She blinked at Skulduggery.

Skulduggery pulled out handcuffs and slapped them on to Liboko. It took some work to figure out how to get her hands behind her back with the wings, but Liboko was more than pliant.

As soon as the handcuffs were in place, the wings and horns and hooves disappeared. All that was left was Liboko, scalp one giant burn, covered in scrapes and bruises, naked.

Skulduggery was at her side as soon as Liboko was secured, examining her hand.

"She stomped on your fingers, but I can't be sure of the extent of the damage. And your head…" He reached up and touched her hair, head tilting down sympathetically. "She might have torn some of your scalp."

"I'm fine," Valkyrie said, adrenaline still keeping the pain at bay.

Skulduggery nodded happily. "Well, that was easy then, wasn't it? I hardly got hurt at all. In fact, I daresay I'm even without a scratch."

Valkyrie smiled. "Yes, well, she didn't suck out your life essence through your dick, so that's definitely a plus."

There was an awkward silence Valkyrie wasn't expecting.

"Valkyrie, I don't have a penis."

"Oh my God, I know, let's get her to the Sanctuary, oh my God."


	42. Nuke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Post book four, pre- book five.**

Kenspeckle hardly glanced up from his lab book. "Clarabelle, for the last time, it is literally impossible for you to burn your hand off with the lemon extract. It is helpful for speeding up the growth of bacteria—"

"Kenspeckle," Valkyrie said, mouth twisting into a smile.

Kenspeckle blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Valkyrie," he said. He stood, abandoning his work and crossing his arms. "What injury have you brought to me today? Broken bone? No, you're not holding back tears—a sprain then? Nasty bruise?"

Valkyrie held her hands up and spun in a slow circle. "I'm fine, really."

"And yet, almost every time you come, you are bleeding from at least one abrasion." Kenspeckle looked around. "Then I assume you're here to ask an inconvenient favor from me. Where is your dear friend Mr. Pleasant, hm? Skulking around, looking for answers? What's the lead?"

Valkyrie shrugged one shoulder. "No, he's not here. It's just me today." She hesitated, licking her lower lip. "It's my day off, actually."

Kenspeckle raised his bushy eyebrows. "Really? A rare social call?" He sat back down in his chair, rolling back a few inches.

Valkyrie nodded. "I wasn't sure what I should wear. I was going to wear, like, jeans and a sweatshirt, but I figured that was unprofessional."

"Nonsense." Kenspeckle waved a hand.

There was a silence.

"Valkyrie, are you alright?" His voice was soft, and Valkyrie had to look away.

"I…" Valkyrie's mind whirled. "I came about Myron Stray."

"Ah." Kenspeckle nodded. "Are you… coping?"

"What?"

Kenspeckle leaned forward. "Valkyrie, if you need to talk about anything…"

Valkyrie's heart jumped to her throat. "Oh, God!" she laughed. "Oh, no! No, not about—no, I'm not here because of the Sanctuary. I guess I was just wondering how like, all that works. With True Names."

Kenspeckle looked at her, eyes boring into her, and Valkyrie was sure that he  _knew_ , knew she was Darquesse, knew the ruse, was going to open his mouth and expose her for the murderer she was going to be.

But then he leaned back, grunting.

"Why not ask Pleasant? He knows enough where he could explain it—better than me, anyways."

Valkyrie turned away, looking for a chair. "Well, I wanted to visit, and he's busy." She ended up hopping onto a table. "Plus, I want to hear it from  _you_. Like, how it all  _actually_  works. Not the applied science of it."

Kenspeckle closed his eyes and nodded. "Understandable. Most people—that is, mages—never delve into the actual  _how_ s and  _why_ s of it. In that sense, I admire mortals; they would have magic figured out by now. I'm honored you would choose me."

Kenspeckle considered. "It has to do with chemicals released when you hear your name. Not to get into details, but all sound is converted into chemical signals for our brain to interpret. Your True Name is just the combination of sounds and syllables that opens you up to being manipulated."

Valkyrie's heart sank. "So, Myron Stray…"

Kenspeckle nodded. "It was his biology. Nothing magical, really."

"So, there's nothing he could have done? Nothing at all?"

"Theoretically, there is." Kenspeckle shrugged. "I mean, there's always theory. I don't deal much with symbols or their effects, but there could be a particular combination that could counteract the various chemical signals. You would have to talk to someone who studies sigils."

Valkyrie nodded, wondering how she could ask China without being interrogated. Or worse: exposed.

"Valkyrie?"

"Hm?" Valkyrie wondered if she had enough money for a cab to drive her to China's and back to her house. Probably not.

"Valkyrie, you don't have to worry about someone finding out your True Name."

"Oh, Kenspeckle, no, I don't think that."

Kenspeckle raised a hand. "Valkyrie, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. You don't have to kill someone if you don't want to. Valkyrie, you don't have to  _hurt_  people if you don't want to. Do you know that?"

Valkyrie tried a smile. "They usually deserve it."

Kenspeckle sighed, his eyes trailing away, looking somewhere far, far away. "Be careful with that line of reasoning. One day, you might find yourself thinking everyone deserves it."

Valkyrie's insides went cold.

There was the distant sound of a timer going off. Hurried footsteps. The timer stopped.

Kenspeckle found Valkyrie's eyes again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound as though I thought you would become like that. But hurting people for a living can do things to a person's mind. Hurting people in general." He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Kenspeckle…" Valkyrie wished she was wearing jeans. "Are you okay?"

"Me? My back aches. This chair Clarabelle bought for me—unwillingly—goes straight to my vertebrae. I swear, this is the most uncomfortable chair, but she brings it to whatever laboratory I'm currently residing in. The chair follows me around. It's maddening."

Valkyrie laughed. "Well, I guess I meant more about…" Voice lighter than she really meant it.

Kenspeckle nodded. "About my creation destroying the Sanctuary? Harming people, destroying living, breathing beings? I'm as alright as I can be, after that. I didn't hear about it until three weeks after."

"I—I'm sorry, I thought someone would tell you—you know I would have if I had known that—"

Kenspeckle waved away Valkyrie's words. "I didn't expect you of all people to tell me." He busied himself with collecting his lab notebook, flipping through a few pages. "I knew that damned thing would cause me trouble."

"Then why did you build it?"

Kenspeckle paused on a page of his lab book. "To see if I could. To see if I could split an atom in a controlled radius."

"What, like an—"

"Like a nuclear weapon, yes. I didn't know that at the time. They regretted their actions as well."

"We're going to catch her." Valkyrie leaned forward. "I swear."

Kenspeckle glanced up at her. "It's not your job."

"It  _is_  my job." Valkyrie hopped off the desk. "I have to go."


	43. Titles like "Distancing Yourself from Emotional Dependency"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie does a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **hello naughty children**

A man left work early.

Valkyrie couldn't remember his name. Steven or David or Richard. Something along those lines.

She slipped the picture out of her pocket, squinting through the drizzle, comparing back and forth. Steven or David or Richard walked quickly, head down, texting someone with one hand, carrying the umbrella with the other. It was him, and Valkyrie slipped the picture back into her jeans.

He got into his car, umbrella getting caught on the door.

Valkyrie started her motorcycle, the  _thrum_  of the engine sounding like a chest cold in the weather. Dirty puddle water splashed onto her jeans as she entered into traffic and followed behind the car.

Steven or David or Richard's car didn't speed or rush or forget to signal. He was a careful driver, all things considered. More careful than Valkyrie, hydroplaning, nearly losing control of her bike, water dripping down her helmet.

He pulled into a motel, and Valkyrie did a loop around the block, finding a spot to park.

She walked back, soaking wet, coat pulled close around her. She had left her camera in the seat of her motorcycle, but no one could tell the difference between her phone camera and the professional one, anyways.

She stepped in front of a car, waving a hand when the driver honked, and jogged into the motel carpark. There were four cars in the parking lot, and Richard or Steven or David's car was parked next to a cute buggy.

Valkyrie hurried in to the front office, teeth chattering.

The man stood next to a woman, arranging a room for a few hours with the clerk. Valkyrie wondered if she could take a picture without being noticed. The bell rang as someone else entered.

"Sure is a wet one out there, today."

Valkyrie's heart lurched.

Chris—she suddenly remembered—turned around, smiling tightly, before returning to paying for his room. The woman was a little more forgiving.

"Sure is," she said. Her tone was a little warmer with Valkyrie. "Looks like you got caught out, huh?"

Valkyrie forced a smile on her face. "Yeah. Didn't check the weather report."

"Well, miss, I have an umbrella you can borrow," Skulduggery said, sidling up. "I wouldn't want you catching a chill, would I?"

Chris touched the woman on her arm, and they left the office. Valkyrie hadn't even gotten the room number, which was the whole damn point.

Valkyrie glared at Skulduggery, but he didn't seem to notice, walking past her and to the clerk. "Good afternoon, young man. I'd like a room for, oh," he looked over his shoulder at Valkyrie, "say, two hours?"

Valkyrie blushed. She scowled harder.

Skulduggery nodded brightly. "What nice hourly rates this motel has," he said, handing the clerk his credit card.

The clerk rang Skulduggery up, handing him a key.

Valkyrie practically kicked the door open. She whirled on him. "What are you  _doing_  here?" she hissed.

Skulduggery pointed with his umbrella. "You ran in front of my car."

Valkyrie faltered—had she really not noticed the Bentley? "Regardless, I doubt you're here on business." Valkyrie licked her lip, looking around. "Have you been following me?"

Skulduggery shrugged. "I was curious as to what you were up to, nowadays, considering you refuse to pick up my calls after also refusing to work with me ever again. However,  _follow_  is a strong term. I honestly had lost you a while back, but then I nearly ran you over."

Valkyrie laughed, turning her back to him. "I can't believe this. I literally cannot believe this."

Skulduggery sounded much too happy. "You do look cold, and I  _did_  buy a room. Would you…?"

Valkyrie whipped around. Skulduggery offered her the key, and she grabbed it, stalking to the room and letting herself in.

The room was small and damp and reeked of cigarette smoke. Valkyrie pushed wet hair out of her eyes and sat on the desk—the only piece of furniture without cloth on it. Skulduggery flicked on the light and deactivated the façade.

"I always wondered what mortals thought needed investigating. A cheating husband, how mundane." He looked over at her. "Your talents are wasted working for mortals, I hope you know that."

Valkyrie glared at Skulduggery's shoes. "Yes, well, I don't  _pick_  the cases, the Sanctuary does, and no sorcerer would touch me with a fifty-foot pole."

"I would."

Valkyrie fought the smile threatening to creep across her face. "Skulduggery, I thought I told you I don't want to work with you."

Skulduggery nodded. "Ah, yes, I do believe that was our last conversation. Forgive me for having some questions, and wishing to discuss this matter further, but you really left me with no choice. I haven't worked with you in years, and I'm not about to let you go freelance."

Valkyrie didn't answer.

Skulduggery cleared his throat. "Right, well, if you could just explain to me why you don't want to be my partner any more, I'd be happy to leave you be to take pictures of your wayward husband a few rooms over."

Valkyrie frowned, and then looked up at him. "You asked China where I was, didn't you? That's why you're in London."

"You're deflecting."

"You're  _following_  me!"

Skulduggery raised his hands. "Perhaps this conversation got off on the wrong foot. I just want to know what you're thinking."

Valkyrie stood. "I'm  _thinking_  that you don't understand why I went to America in the first place. Which is—fine whatever, but I'm trying to work, and I really don't appreciate you interfering. So, if you'll excuse me…"

Skulduggery held up her phone. Valkyrie slapped her hands against her pockets.

"When you turned around," he explained, rather meekly.

"Oh my God."

"Valkyrie, I just want to know what I did wrong."

"Yeah, and you're being  _really_  annoying about it!" she yelled, forgetting she was supposed to be undercover.

Skulduggery's shoulders were slumped, and immediately Valkyrie wished she hadn't said that.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's perfectly alright. I was, perhaps, a bit desperate with this attempt. You're working, and you obviously don't want to talk to me, and I was being rude and invasive. I apologize." He held out her phone.

Valkyrie hesitated. She stepped forward and took her phone.

"I miss you," he said.

She looked up at him.

"I… I've tried to be understanding," he continued. "With America, and… when you didn't want to work with me. But I can't help it, I miss you. God, Valkyrie, I miss you." He was close, so close, but he didn't touch her.

"Skulduggery, I am working," she murmured, looking away.

"Yes." He adjusted the hat on his head. "I'll leave you to it, then."

He touched her elbow as he moved by her—a purely unconscious action, she knew, but it made her stomach role and twist. She blushed, staring at the ground until she heard the door shut behind her.

She let out a breath. Took another deep one; oxygen calms the heart, calms the body, parasympathetic. Skulduggery had taught her that on the phone.

 

* * *

 

Skulduggery handed her the tea, which Valkyrie accepted.

"God, thank you so much, they don't have this brand in America." Valkyrie took a long drink, feeling the warmth pool in her stomach. "You really don't have to fly here every time I say I need something."

"Nonsense," Skulduggery said, removing his hat and settling in his armchair. "I'm just happy to spend time with you."

This was the third time he had visited and said nothing about the books around the house. Books with long titles.


	44. Omen Manages to Embarrass Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omen is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **All oneshots hereafter take place after SpX unless otherwise stated.**

Omen fell back on his back. He was used to this, by now. Omen usually fell down—well, was punched down—to the ground. This time, Valkyrie had managed to get him with a feign to… Well, he wasn't really sure. She  _was_  doing something with her leg, but then he gave him a nasty push backwards, and here he was.

Looking at the ceiling.

Valkyrie popped into his field of vision. "How you doing, Sport?"

"Don't let it get you down, Tiger," Skulduggery called from the other side of the room.

"Don't worry," Omen said, hopping up. "Wasn't bad."

"Yeah," Valkyrie said, stretching her arms over her head. "I don't give you black eyes like some really rude person."

Omen couldn't tell if Skulduggery was still looking at his book or not, but Valkyrie's smile only grew bigger, so he was probably glaring at her.

"I didn't give him a black eye," Skulduggery said, turning a page in his book. "He ran into my elbow."

Omen raised a hand, a habit he found himself doing whenever the two of them started on like this. "With my eye."

Skulduggery gestured to Omen with his book. "See, Omen knows. He ran into my elbow with his eye."

Valkyrie waved a hand. "You saw it coming."

"Yes, but Omen, have you gotten a black eye since then?"

Valkyrie turned her dark eyes to Omen. Omen, meanwhile, adjusting the string of his pants; he had lost a lot of weight since Valkyrie and Skulduggery had started giving him lessons. He could feel himself start to flush the longer the silence went on.

"I mean…" Omen cleared his throat. "I, uh,  _haven't_  had a black eye since Skulduggery gave me one."

"Point proven," Skulduggery said, saying each word with relish.

"Coincidence!" Valkyrie threw her hands in the air. "You know as well as I that that's because you haven't been giving him lessons since you, you know,  _gave him a black eye_."

"I have imparted a valuable lesson."

"Are you going to break something of mine to teach  _me_  a lesson?"

"No, but I might put a muzzle on you."

Omen cleared his throat again, louder. Valkyrie turned back towards him, rolling her head and shoulders, literally a tank or something. Omen was still a little winded from the whole "pushed to the floor" thing, but he got into the stance the two of them had drilled into him.

"Alright, Champ," Valkyrie said, "why don't you look at your stance and tell me what's wrong with it."

Omen stared at his feet for a good few minutes. Valkyrie let him think, though. She was always good at that, letting him work through things.

He slid one foot a little farther back and bent his knees.

Valkyrie beamed. "Good. I know you're probably a little sore from today, but that posture has to become second nature to you. Good for conducting magic  _and_  for balance. So, say, I did this—"

She whipped her leg out, hitting him in the calf. Tears sprung to Omen's eyes, and he nearly toppled back over to the floor, but he managed to steady himself.

Valkyrie smiled. "You won't topple to the floor."

Omen smiled back.

Valkyrie threw a lazy punch, which Omen managed to duck out of the way from. Valkyrie nodded, throwing a faster one, which Omen blocked—he had seen that one coming, he grinned, more than proud of himself.

Valkyrie once again kicked out at him, and his thigh twinged. He hopped out of the way, desperate to give himself room.

"Attack," Skulduggery said sharply. "You're fighting, not defending."

Omen blew air through his lips. He pushed at the air—he knew he was going to miss as soon as he released the energy. Valkyrie didn't even flinch, hadn't even considered the possibility of Omen's attack hitting her, and slammed her elbow into shoulder.

That was her same trick as last time, and he was already adjusting his weight. Her elbow smacked into him, but he hardly felt it. Now, he lashed forward, fist heading towards her throat. She caught his hand, twisting, and then that thing with her leg  _again_ —

Back on his back.

" _Good_ , Sport." Valkyrie stood over him.

"What are you doing with your leg?"

"Feigning," she said, watching him scrape himself off the floor.

"Yeah, but,  _how_?" Omen rubbed his thigh.

Skulduggery snapped his book shut and stood. "Shall we demonstrate?"

"That depends." Valkyrie swiveled to face the skeleton. "Am I going to run into your elbow?"

Omen excused himself to Skulduggery's chair, grateful to rest. He was tempted to pull out his phone and check Never's messages, but kept his eyes on the pair.

Skulduggery faced Valkyrie, but talked loud enough for Omen to hear. "I'm pretty sure we've went over this, but when someone attempts to kick you…"

Valkyrie swung her right leg in an arc. Skulduggery caught her foot and gestured to Valkyrie's other leg.

"Her weight is planted all on her other foot. So what you're picking up on is that shifting of weight, and you're subconsciously expecting a kick. Which is pretty impressive for someone who doesn't do well in his self-defense class."

"Yeah." Omen shrugged. "I got kicked a lot."

Skulduggery released Valkyrie's leg, but she suddenly swung at him with her elbow. He jerked back, hands immediately coming up to his sides. She kept coming, trying to get under his guard, sending out quick jabs.

"Now see, Omen," Skulduggery called, ducking and weaving. "This is what we call a sloppy attempt at an attack."

Valkyrie let out a vicious little laugh, snapping her palm forward and managing to hit his chest. Skulduggery skipped back.

"Now, I can see what you're thinking, Omen," Skulduggery continued to talk. "But that was a ruse, you see, to get her confidence up, because she happens to know my weak spots. However, I also happen to know—"

His knee came up into her thigh.

Omen subtly took his phone out of his pocket.

"Are we boring you?"

Valkyrie was suddenly right over him. Omen's palms instantly grew sweaty, and he shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"No!" Omen felt his face getting hot. "No, I just, I didn't think you would…"

"Notice?" Skulduggery loomed behind her like a shadow.

"Well, no. You were… sort of doing your own thing." Omen pointed weakly to the training mat. "You know."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "We were demonstrating fighting styles. Skulduggery blocks less, because he has less mass to defend, and is lighter, so he prefers to dodge attacks. I tend to attack first, before they can hit me, or take the punishment until I can hit back."

Omen felt very silly for checking his phone. "Well, I just thought you guys were…"

"Were?" Skulduggery was absolutely still.

"You know. Doing your…" Omen wondered how the situation had spiraled so far out of control. "Your talking thing."

Valkyrie blinked at him. "I'm not going to pretend to know what that's referring to."

Omen closed his eyes. Try not to get punched. "Well, sometimes you guys sort of, like, talk to each other and, you know, argue or whatever back and forth, and touch each other, and sometimes the—the lessons sort of de… devolves from the point?"

He opened his eyes to them both staring at him.

"Not often," he offered.

"We don't flirt," Valkyrie said hotly.

Omen raised his hands. "I didn't say that."

"He didn't say that," Skulduggery agreed.

Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery, and then back to Omen. "Well, no, but that's what he was sort of implying, wasn't it? That we argue and…" Valkyrie looked like how Omen probably had just a minute ago.

Skulduggery nodded. "Omen, just for the record's sake, who touches who more? I only ask because it should be clear for further instructing purposes, so that we can punish those responsible, and not distract you from your lessons in the future."

Valkyrie whirled to Skulduggery. "This isn't a  _hearing_!"

Skulduggery shook his head. "You're distracting Sport with your  _flirting_ , Valkyrie."

Omen raised a hand. "I mean, technically, you do, Skulduggery."

"Excuse me?"

"You flirt more?"

Skulduggery didn't have a face, but Omen knew the expression well.

 


	45. Keratin, of the Integumentary System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie saves Skulduggery.

Valkyrie had never seen guards like these.

They had chased her through this madhouse like they were smoking out a rat. Down corridors, trapped behind doors, fighting back out from dead-ends. They had scythes, and while Valkyrie was well practiced fighting against them, it really  _sucked_.

They were almost like Cleavers. Valkyrie peaked out from behind a corner, Aura Vision on. Nothing, no sickly pale color.

She was filthy and covered in sweat. Aby had burrowed into the ground like  _she_  was the rat. The walls were slick with wet earth that clung to her like hands, making her magic finicky and hard to control.

She licked her lips, got a mouthful of dirt for her troubles, and moved off.

Even if Skulduggery  _was_  being tortured, she would never be able to find him. His screams would be swallowed by the walls. If he was gagged, she wouldn't be able to see him, nearly pitch black as it was.

And walking around with her Aura Vision on was giving her a killer headache.

She wandered around aimlessly for twenty minutes. The guards had chased away any sense of direction, and she was disoriented.

But finally,  _finally_ , she might have gotten close. There were torches implanted into the dirt of the walls. Not regular flame, but something a little paler, that burned cold. Like the guards, Valkyrie guessed them to be a hangover from Aby's younger days.

Wait.

Valkyrie perked, because was that… Yes, it was. Whistling.

She grinned and angled herself towards the sound. Another few corridors and she found Skulduggery chained to the wall. No room, no special door, just chains extending into the dirt behind him.

"Obviously," she whispered, crouching to examine the chains, "she's still upset about the whole 'murdering' thing."

Skulduggery's façade raised an easy eyebrow. "Oh, was it the kidnapping that gave it away? The torture these Cleavers have been putting me through? Or was it the monolog she gave when she captured me?"

"No. She didn't even give you a  _room_." She gave an experimental tug at the chains. "Well, they're certainly in there."

"May I ask what took you so long?"

Valkyrie grimaced. "We thought she was keeping you at the island. That involved trying to prepare for an assault, trying to find the damn island, talking to a magical oceanographer, only to get a tip that she had been spotted in Argentina."

"Ah," was all he said.

"Okay, I'm going to cut you lose." She stood and brandished her stole scythe. "It's really important that you  _don't move_."

Skulduggery's façade pressed his lips together. "Well, I am chained to the damn wall."

"Right." Valkyrie hesitated.

"You're hesitating."

"It's… your eyeballs. They're freaking me out."

Skulduggery closed his eyes. "I wouldn't want you to lob off by head, after all."

Valkyrie took a deep breath and swung downwards. But she shouldn't have worried; the scythe cut through the metal like butter.

Skulduggery hopped up and brushed off his t-shirt.

Valkyrie frowned. "Aw, did they steal your suit?"

"Something like that. An emasculation tactic, no doubt. Now, not to nag, but I would dearly love to get out of this burrow of hell. I'm assuming you know the way out?"

"Sure."

Valkyrie led him back to where the torches ended and ripped one out of the wall, leading him into the dark.

They came to a junction and stopped. Valkyrie tried to reverse her path in her head, shining the torch this way and that.

"You don't know the way out, then."

"You have the fancy air-reading abilities. I'm no longer the designated navigator."

Skulduggery nodded, lips twisting. "Fair enough."

He nodded left and they moved off. He was suspiciously quiet.

"You're judging me, aren't you?" she whispered.

"Not at all."

"You're judging me because I'm lost. There are these guards—I don't know if they're the same ones who have been checking up on you, but they're everywhere. And they're savage. Every time I kill one, two more pop up in their place. They almost killed me like, three times."

Skulduggery nodded. "I'm not surprised. These are as close to Cleavers as you can get."

"Yeah, their auras are similar, actually. What are they?"

"It's what was done back in the day." Skulduggery paused, hand splayed, then moved right. "You would wipe a mage's memory, destroy a good part of his cerebrum. However, unlike modern day Cleavers, the only personality that is erased is the nonviolent portions."

Skulduggery still had his façade on. The enhancements China had made, plus the t-shirt and jeans, was giving Valkyrie the creeps.

Skulduggery continued: "Of course, this is a faulty tactic. Everybody has different anger responses, while sometimes you would destroy  _all_  the soldier's impulse control. It is more costly to train them from children, but ultimately—"

"Hey, what's up with your façade?"

Skulduggery looked at her and blinked. "You interrupted me."

Valkyrie stopped. "Skulduggery…"

Skulduggery looked at her, eyes brown and wide and sad. "Valkyrie."

They stared at each other.

Valkyrie reached out and grabbed his arm. Warm, blood pulsing underneath her fingers—alive, alive, alive. Thin muscle, not hollow imitations, she could feel the sinew, the bone. His skin, damp with perspiration and dirt. Hair.

She ripped her hand away and turned abruptly.

"Oh," she said loudly.

And then the blunt end of a scythe smacked against her head. She staggered, swinging the torch wildly to keep away the proto-Cleaver. But he hadn't even been close to her ears or the back of her head, so besides blood leaking down from a gash on her forehead, her awareness snapped back immediately.

Skulduggery had covered for her, pushing the Cleaver back with air as best he could. He was weak, she could see that now, dehydration, maybe, hunger.

She threw the torch down and snapped forward with the scythe, catching the Cleaver's own blade away from Skulduggery. He was quick, but he was right handed and came in from Valkyrie's left. She quickly hooked the back of her blade under his, stopping his swing.

She swung forward and it was over, his neck open, red like watermelon.

But already the other Cleavers were showing up.

Skulduggery set one on fire, breathing heavily—actually breathing oxygen into desperate lungs—then swung towards her. He crashed into her, drove her back against the wall.

The earth swallowed them.

Valkyrie's hand that had been holding the scythe was jammed to her side, forced to release the scythe. All she heard was the roar of the earth in her ears, the taste of dirt in her mouth, up her nose, in her ears. Skulduggery's hand at the back of her head, the rocks digging into her back.

Then nothing.

Her ears rang and she blinked the dirt out of her eyes.

Skulduggery had his arms wrapped around her, his head resting on her shoulder as he gasped for breath. She could feel the sweat drip off him.

"I just," he rasped, "need to rest… for a second."

She could feel his heartbeat against her chest. He must have felt hers, too. Must have been just as blind in the oppressive darkness.

"I didn't find you in time," she said.

His head was turned towards her neck, and she felt his lips on her skin. "You couldn't have known."

And then they were moving upwards, the rocks digging into Valkyrie's head, the roar, the roar, Skulduggery's hand, his chest against hers.

They emerged into the brilliant sunshine.

Skulduggery fell away from her, gasping for air, clutching his side. Valkyrie stared at him in the light, fascinated

The jungle buzzed around them, the sounds of insects and trees swaying. She snapped her gaze away and stood. Shook the dirt off of herself, out of her eyes and ears. Spat out grit and stood over Skulduggery.

"Come on. They'll be looking for us above ground."

"I'm dying," Skulduggery said.

"No, you have a stitch in your side."

"I don't remember them hurting this much."

She helped him off the ground. She checked the position of the sun and set off in the direction of the town. It was late—she must have been down there for six hours at least. She was starving and thirsty, and the humid air wasn't helping.

Skulduggery walked with his arm over his head, working out the stitch in his side.

"You're staring," he said.

She snapped her eyes forward. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks."

"I think what you actually meant to say is: 'I've never seen you alive and I'm absolutely enthralled and intensely curious to ask you about it.'" Skulduggery was gritting his teeth. "I think  _I'm_  intensely dehydrated."

"You're still sweating, so that's good."

"This is awful. I haven't had a headache in hundreds of years. I'm sorry you have them so often."

"Oh, well, I have some stuff back at the village. Town. Thing. I can give you some Aspirin leaves when we get there."

Skulduggery's face twisted—eyebrows together, thin smile. "Don't call them that."

He had short, brown hair. It wasn't… gorgeous hair. Like Fletcher's, that honey blond. Or Tanith's. It was brown, maybe a little dark, unwashed. And he had brown eyes. Shoulders not as broad as she would have thought. He was still tall, but with his build, he seemed less looming. Not  _thin_ , lean, maybe…

He wasn't ugly. But he wasn't attractive, either. A rather oval face, a nose that wasn't bulbous, not too large, but just  _there_. Lips that were neither full nor thin. Eyes that slanted downwards.

"You're staring again."

Valkyrie snapped her eyes forward again. "Sorry."

Was it… rude to ask about it?

"Valkyrie?" Same smooth, velvet voice.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have to…" Skulduggery cleared his throat. "Relieve myself."

Valkyrie looked at him. "Oh."

Skulduggery pointed. "I'm going to go behind that tree."

"Okay. Yeah, cool."

Right. So Skulduggery peed now. That's fine. That was totally normal, because he was alive now. He… He had  _parts_  now.

She groaned, running her hands over her face.

"Everything alright?"

Valkyrie jumped away from Skulduggery. "Yeah!" she yelled. "Sorry, I didn't hear you coming. Yeah, everything's fine, I just want to get out of this jungle and get you some water. And get back to Ireland."

"Of course."

They walked in silence, skirting around groves of thorns, squinting through the canopy to adjust their position relative to the sun. Bird chorused above them, and Valkyrie shrieked as they walked through spider webs.

Finally: "I'm assuming you have some questions."

Valkyrie glanced over, trying to be casual. "Hm?"

"Questions about the whole  _alive_  business, Valkyrie. I'm going to answer the obvious ones. Yes, Abyssinia did this. I don't know why, but she did this with several locals, in a similar process to her own resurrection. However, she kept me sedated, most likely through a medium of some sort. It hurt."

Valkyrie felt shame drip down her back like cold water. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I was alive for about two days before you found me. That estimate might be off, as my circadian rhythm was… less than reliable. They gave me enough water and food to get by. They stopped, most likely when you entered the facility."

Valkyrie bit her lip.

Skulduggery looked at her and shrugged one shoulder. "Ask whatever it is you're thinking."

"Is… Is this what you looked like before you died?"

"From what I could discern, yes."

"And the torture?"

Skulduggery looked straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed; Valkyrie had the feeling they did that a lot. "When I was alive."

"Is it weird?"

Skulduggery looked at her, mouthing the words she had just said. "Yes. No. It's… like déjà vu. I had forgotten certain sensations. But as they occur…" He flexed his hand. "I remember them, vaguely." He looked away from her. "Is it… strange, for you?"

She considered lying for a brief second. "It is," she muttered.

Skulduggery pressed his lips together tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Looks you right in the eyeball**


	46. Some Persistence of Personification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vile runs amok.

In a different life, Valkyrie would have liked to live somewhere like here. The trees groaned above her, leaves red and yellow and orange, casting fantastic patterns in her vision, even with her eyes closed, even with her ears ringing, head spinning.

Her eyes snapped open and she scrambled up, slipping back down in the leaves.

Lord Vile stood in front of her, the only monochrome thing in the whole forest.

Valkyrie couldn't speak, a lump in her throat. She wondered where her stick was, buried somewhere underneath the leaves. She felt naked.

"Hey," she rasped.

Lord Vile didn't move.

Valkyrie gave a little wave. "You tried to kill me last time I found you. Are you going to do that again?"

Vile held a hand up, and a shadow whipped forward—Valkyrie flinched back.

Nothing hit her.

She cracked her eye open, and her stick was held in front of her by a thin shadow. She frowned at it, frowned at Vile, and then held her hand out. The stick floated gently into her hand, and the shadow dissolved into the air.

Valkyrie gripped it, gripped it harder. Let out a breath.

"Thank you."

Wind rustled through the trees. A red leaf floated down and landed on Vile's helmet.

Valkyrie laughed.

A shadow grew from Vile's armor and pierced the leaf, and the laugh died on Valkyrie's lips.

"You know, this is the first time we've had a talk since…" Valkyrie stood, slowly. "Since, well, you know. Since you went coo-coo-cachoo. I've missed you. It's weird not hearing you talk all the time. Do you miss talking?"

Nothing.

"I bet you do," Valkyrie said, brushing a leaf off her pants. "I bet Skulduggery is dying to make fun of me, isn't he? What does he think of this tattoo?" She pulled up her shirt and pointed to the cartoony skull and crossbones on her ribs. "I can hear the disappointment from here."

Vile did nothing.

"I mean, not that you care, just that I've been dragging myself all over the world looking for you." Valkyrie put her hands in her pocket and shrugged. "I missed you, you know? And every time I found you, you would throw shadow spikes at me, and hit me in the head with a shadow and knock me out…"

Valkyrie looked at him, eyes wide, before shrugging again.

"I mean, it's whatever, I forgive you for hitting me on the head with a shadow and knocking me unconscious. Risk I have to take."

Valkyrie kicked a leaf.

Vile did what he had been mostly been doing—nothing.

"I miss Skulduggery, by the way, not you. Why didn't you kill me, just then? You finally had me at your mercy, literally at your feet. You messed up. That's every villain's problem, you know, they don't strike while the iron is hot."

Valkyrie was getting sufficiently creeped out, Vile just staring at her.

"Can I talk to Skulduggery? Please? Does he miss me?"

A shadow swept across the ground, scattering leaves as it came towards her. Valkyrie jumped over it, snarling, and ran towards Vile, brandishing her stick.

The ground shifted under her and Valkyrie had to change directions. Her feet slipped in the leaves and she fell on her side, kicking her legs, trying to get away get away get away, before a shadow ripped through her.

Instead, Vile was suddenly standing over her. Valkyrie lashed out, magic crackling, but what she didn't expect was his foot to come down on her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Valkyrie felt tears spring to her eyes. Panicked, she swung her stick towards him, weak, slow, but as soon as it got near him, energy crackled out and snuck underneath the plates in Vile's armor.

Vile jerked away, spikes twisting out of the shadows, as much as a snarl as Vile would make. Valkyrie scrambled up and ran, slipping and sliding on the leaves.

She sprinted, nearly twisting an ankle, until she tasted iron in her mouth. She slowed, looking over her shoulder.

But it was fine. He never followed.

 

* * *

 

England greeted her with rain.

Valkyrie out front of the airport, looking around, glaring at anyone who bumped into here, even when they were long gone, suitcase behind them like a dog. Valkyrie's own suitcase was filthy.

A car sped past, and Valkyrie jumped backwards too late. A gust of wind blew water in her face. Tanith pulled up on her bike.

"Valkyrie!" Tanith took of her helmet, hair like a mane, brightest thing standing on that asphalt. "God, it's been ages!" She hopped off her bike and pulled Valkyrie into a rough hug. "You look good."

Valkyrie managed to smile back. "Missed you. Happy things haven't changed here, and thank you for picking me up. I really appreciate it."

Tanith grinned. "Hey, what's a little motorcycle ride in the rain for my best gal pal?" She opened the seat of her bike. "How goes the hunt, by the way?" she asked, casually, voice light.

"Your Sanctuary was nice enough to tip me off that he's in the area. Somewhere. In the country. Which is a better lead than I usually have." Valkyrie hesitated. "Tanith, there's no way my suitcase is going to fit in there. Like, no way."

Tanith looked from Valkyrie's suitcase to the motorcycle. "Can you drag it?"

"Won't the wheels snap off?"

"I mean,  _maybe_." Tanith puckered her lips, then shrugged. "I think you're going to have to drag it. Sorry, Val."

The wheels did snap off, and Valkyrie was terrified of the whole thing spilling open and her clothing tripping up the bike. Tanith didn't seemed concerned, because she had a helmet, but Valkyrie was busy blinking the water out of her eyes, one arm firmly around Tanith's waist, the other hand with the suitcase, utterly blind to what was happening.

Granted, Tanith lived here, and probably traversed these roads constantly. But it made her heart pound with adrenaline, all the same.

And then she was flying through the air.

Her reflexes snapped in before she knew what was happening, and she curled her arms around her head, trying to make sense of the ground.

But it didn't matter, because something wrapped around her and dragged her down. She slammed in the asphalt, winded, confused. She twisted, and there was Tanith's bike, front tire shredded—and Tanith?

There was just the green of the surrounding fields.

And then she was flung through the air and landed right in the middle of one of those fields. She rolled through the dung and dirt, shoulder cracking. She struggled to sit—her arm gave out from under her. Dislocated, probably.

Valkyrie's ears rang, and she jumped up, whipping around.

And there was Lord Vile, dark, water making him shimmer in a demented sort of mirage as it rippled over the armor. It almost looked like leather in this light. The wheat was up to his waist, and it brushed against Valkyrie's hands.

"Skulduggery?" Valkyrie tried.

Vile grew spikes and threw himself at her. She danced out of the way, ragged and disoriented, her shoulder throbbing. He whipped those shadows at her feet, but she was already dancing away.

"Tanith!" she bellowed.

Shadow slammed into her, and she fell onto her bad shoulder. Pain seared, so sudden tears mixed with the rain, and then it disappeared. He had popped the damn thing back into place. And her concentration was back, too.

The power rushed to her like an energetic dog, and she dug her fingers into the dirt and electricity burrowed through the ground. Vile couldn't see what she was doing, and Valkyrie watched with a grim sort of satisfaction as Vile cringed.

And then shadows slithered through the ground and crawled onto her hands. She screamed and jolted back, but the shadows dug into her flesh. She howled this time, shaking her hands and the shadows ate through her flesh, red with the black.

The shadows dissolved like smoke, and Vile was standing over her.

Valkyrie was shaking, the raw pain—

Vile bent down in the grass, looking at her hands. Valkyrie could see Skulduggery in him, then, in the tilt of the head, and the direct, wondrous interest in her, her movements, her pain.

He hadn't meant to hurt her. That was plain to see. And he reached out to touch her cheek…

Tanith slammed her sword into his back. Vile reared upwards, but Tanith had gotten her sword through a slit in his armor. She grunted in satisfaction and twisted, and Valkyrie could  _see_ the pain as Vile moved.

But it didn't take him long to figure out what had happened. A black tentacle whipped around Tanith's waist and pulled her off, held her in the air. Tanith struggled, trying to rip or hack at the shadow, but Vile just squeezed harder.

Valkyrie could see the shadow start to burrow under Tanith's skin, follow her veins, bloody and violent and painful. Tanith  _screamed_. Vile tilted his head, manipulated the air with his hand, and the shadow obediently followed.

Valkyrie dragged herself off the ground. Her heart slammed in her ears. However much of Skulduggery remained, his benevolence only extended as far as Valkyrie.

"Stop!"

Tanith stopped screaming.

Valkyrie lipped her lips. Vile's back was to her, but he looked over his shoulder at her.

Valkyrie stepped closer. "Stop." Her voice was hoarse.

Lord Vile considered, turning back to Tanith in the air. For a long second, Valkyrie thought he was going to continue, and that she would have to watch her friend die.

But then, then, thank God, Vile tossed her away like a ragdoll.

The heavy weight on Valkyrie's chest lifted, and she staggered over to where Tanith had disappeared in the long grass. She was already sitting up and flicking her hands to rid herself of the blood from her ruptured capillaries.

"Where is he?" Tanith said, reaching for her sword.

"You're bleeding," Valkyrie pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'm going to make  _him_  bleed."

"He's a skeleton." Valkyrie stood. "He's gone."

"Fuck." Tanith stood up. "And he wrecked my bike. God, he's such a dick."

"Are you, like, okay?" Valkyrie stared at Tanith's hands. "He might have nicked an artery."

Tanith walked back over to the road. "Listen, if I pass out from blood loss, call the mechanic and get my bike taken care of, first."

 

* * *

 

Tanith's house was larger than Valkyrie would have expected. It was way out in the country, an hour's ride in a taxi. A neglected garden filled with weeds and wild plants, but grass neat and clipped. Large windows, a second floor. Wooden walls that needed to be repainted.

When Tanith unlocked the door and led Valkyrie, it made her sad. Not enough furniture for the large space. No pictures on the walls.

"I don't have another bed besides my own," Tanith said, pointing to the couch. "But I have plenty of blankets and spare pillows. If it's really awful, you can always bunk with me. But I kick and punch in my sleep."

Valkyrie grinned. "No, the couch's perfect."

Tanith threw Valkyrie's clothes into the dryer and gave her an old, baggy t-shirt for pajamas.

They heated up leftovers and then made popcorn, flipping through the local access channels because Tanith wasn't home enough to justify cable. They had a good time—Downtown Abbey was still playing, all these years later—and they tried to piece together the story, laughing madly.

This was good. It was the first time she had relaxed in years, and the realization of it made her throat close up.

The realization of it made her miss Skulduggery.

"Hey, Val?"

Valkyrie looked over, swallowing heavily. "Yeah?"

Tanith ate some popcorn, eyes glued to the television screen, fingers bandaged. "Why did he listen to you?"

Valkyrie couldn't comprehend the question. She floundered for a second, but Tanith continued:

"I mean, he was going to kill me, today, wasn't he? And you told him to stop, and he did." Tanith' glanced over at her, then back to the television. "And he didn't kill you. You were down on the ground. He could have."

"Yeah. He could have."

"So, why?"

Valkyrie swallowed again. "I mean, he's still Skulduggery, right?"

Tanith looked over so fast, Valkyrie was surprised her neck didn't crack.

Valkyrie's fingers curled into her palms. "I mean, somewhere, deep inside," she said quickly, "Skulduggery is  _there_. And I think that he's been Lord Vile so long that Skulduggery can influence his decisions."

Tension had drained from Tanith's shoulders, and she looked back at the screen. "Yeah, that makes sense. Who the hell is this stuffy bloke with the limp again?"

 

* * *

 

Valkyrie's eyes snapped open.

She didn't know where she was and she kicked herself upwards, panting, sticky with sweat. Not a hotel, she had flown somewhere yesterday though, arrived…

Relief swept through her. England. Tanith.

The nightmare clung to her mind. She kicked the covers off and tied her hair back from her face, fanning herself. A cold glass of water always helped sooth her nerves, and she was just swinging her feet off the couch when she caught sight of Lord Vile.

She froze. He stood in front of the television, not a meter away from her, as black as the night around him.

She should call for Tanith. Call for Tanith and  _run_ , because here was a mass murderer standing in front of her, who was going to murder her friend a few hours earlier, who was going to probably murder Valkyrie  _now_. She should call for Tanith.

Valkyrie stood, slowly, slowly. Shadows rolled around Valkyrie's ankles, ready to lash out if she ran, but she didn't.

Valkyrie walked up to him, an inch between them, if that. She looked at his helmet, where his eye sockets would be, so she could at least pretend she was looking him in the eye and not this knot of metal and shadow.

When was the last time she had even seen Skulduggery?

Tendrils of shadows curled against her legs, wrapping around them, brushed against her cheek. Gentle, so gentle.

And Valkyrie leaned herself against his armor, and it curved to meet her body, so she could press closer. How she had missed him, in whatever small way this was him. Maybe he missed her, too.

And those shadows wrapped around over her knees, inching upwards, and she sighed, deeply, sadly. He had never killed her when he had the chance, had he? Just let her run. Like one huge game of cat and mouse.

Her head lolled, and the shadows wrapped around her neck, soft as satin against her skin. Years she had been chasing after him, even since Roarhaven. All around the world. Years. Maybe she was tired.

The shadows curled around her thighs, twisted underneath the back of her shirt, brushed against her lips. And higher those tendrils on her thighs reached.

"Valkyrie?"

Lord Vile disappeared, and his absence made her stagger forward. She whipped around, panting, to Tanith on the stairs.

Tanith's eyes flicked over Valkyrie, eyebrows drawn together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **onelassieandherfandoms :** where's all my vilekyrie content at


	47. Sounds like an Octopus Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skulduggery and Valkyrie are on a boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **After Resurrection obvi :)**

It was cold on this damn boat. It was some sort of fishing boat, or something, run by a couple who kept staring at them from behind the wheel. They spoke—what was it? Portuguese—in low, hushed tones. Maybe they were talking about how nice her new haircut was.

"Skulduggery?"

Skulduggery didn't move from his position in the front of the boat, hands on his hips, surveying the water. The empty, empty water. "Valkyrie."

"Why are we on a boat?"

"What's wrong with boats? I thought you liked the water? Especially the ocean. The salt air has actually been proven to do wonders for your mental health, did you know. I don't know why, but people say that running water is good for calming the mind. Something to do with negative ions, or anions, if they were more educated in chemistry."

"I do like the ocean." Valkyrie pulled her jacket a little tighter. "But, I mean, you can fly."

"And you can swim."

"So you'd rather hire a boat than fly to where we're supposed to be going?"

"It is a floating island, Valkyrie." He had been saying her name a lot, recently. "I can't very well fly across the entire ocean looking for this place. Not to mention, it might have gone off course, very off course, and I'd rather pay this boat to look around for me, rather than waste my energy."

"But flying is…"

"Cooler?"

Valkyrie shot a look over her shoulder at the men behind the wheel. "Indefinitely more cool."

Skulduggery gave a little shrug. "I'm always cool."

Valkyrie bit her lip. Tapped her fingers on her leg, crossed her arms, tied her hair back. Skulduggery looked at her. Valkyrie stopped moving.

"So, like." Valkyrie leaned back against the railing of the boat. "So what's up with Aby?"

"Abyssinia."

"That's what I said. So like… What's up? With you two?"

"I feel like I've already explained to you our relationship. Actually, you're just about the only one who  _does_  know the extent of our relationship. She was my ex-girlfriend. We had differing opinions on how to advance our relationship. I killed her. Twice." Skulduggery gave another shrug.

"Well, yeah." Valkyrie nodded. "But how did it… work?"

"Well, at first, she told me she loved me. She listened to my anger, didn't try to talk me out of it like everyone else had done. She made my anger feel justified, encouraged it, thought it was fascinating. 'Make them pay,' she said to me."

That was not the answer Valkyrie had been hoping for. "Right."

"And as soon as she stopped supporting that—killing for the pure joy—she was useless to me."

 _Ordinary_. "Right. Yes."

Skulduggery tilted his head to the left, confused. "I'm sorry, was that not the answer you were looking for? We had a sadistic little fling."

Valkyrie felt herself blushing. "Well, it's just that, you know, you're a skeleton."

"These two topics of conversation aren't related. I  _am_  a skeleton, and I dated a psychopath when I was a psychopath." Skulduggery's voice had a smile in it.

"So, Aby wasn't…  _intimidated_  by you being a skeleton?"

They stared at each other. Valkyrie could feel herself growing more red. She shouldn't have asked, oh my God.

"Well, I wouldn't think so," Skulduggery finally murmured.

"And everything…" Valkyrie floundered. "Worked out?"

"I do feel sensations." His voice was as neutral as she had ever heard it. "I wouldn't be able to manipulate air, otherwise. And we both know I feel pain."

"So, it was more of a physical thing?" Valkyrie no longer had any control over her mouth.

"I would think," Skulduggery said slowly, like he was thinking over every word carefully, "that any action in this department would have to be physical."

"Well, you have an aura."

"A red one."

Valkyrie shrugged. She didn't think she looked very nonchalant. "Well, I just wasn't sure if that's… what she—manipulated."

"Ah." Skulduggery nodded. "I see. No, that wasn't our process."

"But there was a process?"

They stared at each other again.

"There's a shoe in the water behind you," Skulduggery said.

"What?"

There very much  _was_  a shoe in the water behind them. Skulduggery told the couple to pull up closer, and he reached down and deftly pulled it from the water. He held it up, held it closer to his eye, turned it around the other way.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "It just looks like a shoe."

"I think it's a clue." He held it out to her. "I think Abyssinia has been stealing other people's essences and dumping the bodies in the ocean."

"Yeah, me too, but I don't think this shoe told you any of that." Valkyrie took the shoe. "They're the only things that float when a person is dead. Makes sense you'd find a shoe and not a body. But how do you even know this is a shoe related to Abyssinia?"

Skulduggery put his hands on his hips, staring at the shoe. "It matches up with the tidal times."

"You hesitated." Valkyrie squinted. "Are you trying to stall?"

Skulduggery took the shoe back—a little defensively. "What would I possibly be trying to stall, Valkyrie?"

"The… uh…  _other_  conversation."

"About my— _relations_  with Abyssinia?" Skulduggery wiggled the tongue of the shoe. "Now, why on earth would I want to avoid  _that_  conversation?" He looked past her shoulder. "I have some bad news: there are more shoes."

Valkyrie turned around. Hundreds of shoes bobbed on the waves, all different brands.

"Oh no," she breathed.

"Seems Aby has been busy."


End file.
